Meander
by Aces.and.Spades
Summary: “Even straight roads meander,” he said thoughtfully, looking into her eyes, “And while we have strayed very far off of our path...” His voice dropped to a low whisper. “I think that we’ve found our road again.”
1. One

**An Article from _Witch Weekly_, August 2000**

**HARRY POTTER WEDS DAUGHTER OF MINISTRY EMPLOYEE**

_Steven Ore, Reporter_

The Ministry of Magic had more than England's victory of the Quidditch cup to celebrate this weekend. On Saturday, August 19, Harry J. Potter exchanged vows at the altar with Ginevra M. Weasley, the daughter of long-time Ministry employee, Arthur Weasley, in the St. Rosenburg's Church at the edge of Hogsmeade.

"The wedding was absolutely perfect, exactly how we envisioned. It could not have possibly been any better," Potter said in a statement. "Ginevra and I are looking forward to our life together."

The reception took place at _The Setting Sun_, a club in central Hogsmeade. Many friends and relatives of the couple attended the ceremony, including many friends who had attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with the bride and groom three years ago.

"They could not be any more perfect together," commented Hermione Granger, a close friend of Potter who also participated in the wedding as the bride's maid of honor. "They are going to be so happy."

The couple are going to honeymoon in France before returning to England, where Potter is expected to take a job the Ministry of Magic. Weasley is a Mediwitch at St. Mungo's.

_Sunday,August 16, 2003_

_Diary,_

_Mum always told me to follow my gut instinct. My women's intuition. But what happens when your instincts and your intuition are telling you things that you don't want to hear? Do you ignore them? Do you lock them in a box and swallow the key? I don't know. I don't know anything anymore._

_However, there is one thing I know: there is another woman involved._

_I'm watching Harry sleep right now. I've always found him so fascinating to watch when he's asleep. It makes me wonder what he dreams, what he sees. It makes me wonder exactly where he goes when he's wandered off into dreamland. I'll never know. Looking at him , I wish I could guess. His hair is a mess. Then again, it's always a mess. He can never seem to keep it tidy. His brow is furrowed, too, just like when he's thinking about something really hard. I wonder what he's thinking about._

_He called me at around 7 o'clock tonight to tell me that he would be coming home late from the Ministry. Apparently, there had been a mishap with some exploding kitchen knives, and he couldn't duck out of it. He told me to leave his dinner on the table, that he would eat when he got home. I asked him if I should wait for him or not, and he said no. He didn't know how long he would be. _

_He came home around 1 (about an hour ago). Do exploding kitchen knives really take six hours of hexes and spells before they stop exploding? He seemed shocked to find that I was still awake. I told him that I couldn't sleep, and that I was just catching up on my reading. But really, I was just waiting for him._

_I suppose he didn't know that I had noticed anything strange, but I had. His hair was definitely more messy than usual, his collar was upturned, his tie was untied, and his buttons were unbuttoned. I asked him about it, and he told me that it had been a long day at the office, and he "was tired" and just had to "get rid" of his tie. That still doesn't explain the unbuttoned buttons, though._

_There's another woman involved, I just know it. It's as though the words can't leave my mind. There's another woman involved. There's another woman involved. There's another woman..._

_Does he really think I'm stupid? Does he really think I don't notice? He's such a terrible liar. He was never able to hide anything from me because his eyes always told the truth. So what makes him think he can get by with this? I can't lose him. I absolutely cannot lose him to another woman. And I most certainly will not. He is my life, my solace. He is my everything. And I will not let that fall out of my grasp because a primped and proper tart wants her way with him._

_He's turning in his sleep, now. He looks bothered._

_I wonder what's gnawing at him. I wish he would just tell me already._

_-Ginevra-_


	2. January 7th

_January 7, 2003_

Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter rolled over onto her stomach, and blindly groped around on the sheets for her husband, wanting to curl up into him and go back to sleep. She had expected her hand to fall directly onto his stomach–and to hear the sound of a muffled _"Oof!"_–but all her hand found was cold, rumpled bed sheets. Ginny lifted her head up, and peered at her husband's empty spot on the bed.

'_He's hardly ever here when I wake up these days,'_ she thought bitterly, sitting up and rubbing the sand out of her eyes.

Ginny ran a hand through her messy red hair and looked around. Her husband's wand, out of habit since his schooling days, was still lying on his bedside table right next to his glasses, which meant that he had not left for the Ministry yet. Outside the bedroom door, and in the dark hallway, a thin beam of light outlined the bathroom door. Harry was taking a shower. A smirked played across her lips. Harry had been working very hard lately, pulling in long hours and late nights. A day off at home and in bed, would do him some good, if only she could convince him to do so.

Ginny slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom. She was greeted by waft of hot, moist air greeted her when she let herself in. Just over the hiss of the shower, Ginny could barely make out the sound of Harry humming to himself, and she smiled. It was a habit that he had always had, and it had never ceased to make Ginny smile. Usually, his humming reflected how he was feeling that day. If Harry was in a good mood, his humming would be loud, and upbeat. If he was in a bad mood, his humming was soft, and slow. Today, it was somewhere in between. Ginny assumed he was still trying to wake up.

'_I could probably brighten his tune a little more,'_ Ginny mused, quickly shedding her satin nightgown (Harry had gotten it for her for Valentine's Day last year) and stepping into the shower.

Harry's back was to her, water trailing down the length of his lean frame. Although Harry was tall and thin, he wasn't gangly. Years of Quidditch and muggle football had sculpted his body into a sleek, chiseled masterpiece. Well, almost a masterpiece, anyway. His knees were a little knobbly.

Ginny quietly snuck up behind him, wrapping her arms around his thin waist and pressing her cheek against his toned back. She felt him jump at her touch, and Harry quickly turned around to face her.

"Wha–oh, hey Gin. You're up early." A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Ginny smiled and looked up into his eyes. They were unusually bright green this morning. "I thought it would be a pleasant surprise."

"Well you were right about that, it is a rather pleasant surprise."

She watched as his eyes traveled down the length of her body, the tiny smile on his face growing wider. He leaned down, and quicky kissed her. "But... you should really go back to bed. You have a night shift tonight."

Ginny tilted her head and pouted. "Harry Potter, are you trying to get rid me?" She trailed her fingers down his chest, feeling him lightly shudder under her touch. Harry let out a deep breath. Her fingertips found the bud of one of his nipples, and she traced tiny circles over it. "I don't see you that much anymore, Love."

"I know, Gin, I know... but... you know I like that a lot, don't you?"

Ginny looked up at him, smirking. "Clearly."

Harry smiled, and snaked an arm around her waist. He ran his fingers through her hair, which was now soaking wet. Ginny leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his chest, feeling him shiver underneath her lips. Harry's grip around her waist tightened.

"You know I _really_ like that a lot, don't you?"

"Mmhmm..." She kissed his chest again, grinning against his skin. His grip around her was even tighter.

Harry wrapped her in a passionate kiss. His fingers traveled down the length of her body, sending tingles up her spine. Her breath quickened.

"You know... Gin... mmm..." he mumbled between kisses. "It would... be a lot more... comfortable... if we took this... somewhere... else... like our bedroom..."

Ginny nodded against the kiss, wrapping her arms around him. He pulled away long enough to find the shower knobs to turn the water off. "You're all wet," he joked, tapping the end of her nose with his finger. Ginny brought her hand up to the back of his neck, and yanked him into another kiss.

"In more ways than one," she growled.

Harry reached outside the shower curtain, trying to find a towel. The two had just gotten hardwood floors installed in their new London apartment, and Harry was weary about getting anything on the floor. Ginny sighed, and pulled the shower curtain open. She turned around, and pulled Harry out of the tub by his arms.

"Whoa! Gin!" He yelped as the two stumbled out of the bathroom door and into the hallway. Ginny's back smacked against the wall, Harry pinned against her. She laughed.

"You've pinned me, Harry."

Harry cocked an eyebrow as if to say, _'Just what in the name of Merlin has gotten into you this morning?'_ Ginny cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him again.

The couple awkwardly stumbled into their bedroom. Ginny could imagine that, if a neighbor were to peak at them through the large wall-to-wall windows in their bedroom, that she and Harry looked quite silly attempting to step as one into the room, lip-locked. She quickly pulled out of the kiss long enough to dive onto the bed.

"Ginny! You're going to get the blankets all wet!" Harry pointed at her dripping hair.

"Oh come off it, Harry, and get up here!" Ginny playfully snapped. Sometimes, Harry could be a pain. He slowly climbed up on the bed, and let Ginny pull him on top of her. "Now, for just one moment," She whispered, pressing his forehead against hers lightly. "Stop thinking about the floors, stop thinking about the bed, stop thinking about work, and–"

"Work, oh Merlin, that's right!" Harry yanked himself out of her grasp and smacked his forehead with his hand. "I had to go in early today. They really needed me for the follow-up report on the kitchen knives!"

"Harry..."

Harry fumbled around to put his glasses on, and grabbed a towel from the floor. "I'm sorry Ginny, but I have to go..."

Ginny watched as he raced to get dressed. For a moment, he looked like a muggle who was late for one of those airplane flights. She ran a hand through her sopping hair, and bit her lip. "So you're just going to take off? Just like that?" She asked. She could feel tears beginning to prick at her eyes, but she forced them away. There was no use crying about it. Harry shoved his feet into his socks. "Harry, answer me."

"Huh?" He looked up.

Ginny sighed and looked out the bedroom window. It had snowed last night; fresh, pristine white snow. The sky was still a deep, deep gray, as though it were promising to bring more. Outside, people were shuffling to get away from the cold. She picked up her wand from her bedside table, and tapped the side of her head, magically drying off. Pulling her blankets up to her chin, she laid down, making sure that her back was still turned to her husband. "Nevermind, Harry. Just... nevermind."

"What, Ginny?"

"It's nothing, Harry, go to work."

"Ginny, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Harry! Now go to work!"

She could feel his eyes staring at her, but she didn't turn around. She wasn't about to give him that pleasure. After a long pause, she heard him shuffling to get ready. She heard the bathroom door open, and then shut. There was a quiet pause before it reopened. After a few minutes, Harry's hand fell on Ginny's arm. Before he could press his lips against her cheek, Ginny turned her head away.

"Aren't you going to let me kiss you goodbye?" he asked softly. Ginny could smell mint toothpaste on his breath.

"No," she snapped.

"Well why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

Harry sighed, "Love, you know I need to go to work."

'_Do you need to go to work? Or do you need to snog your new secretary?'_ Ginny thought, but she didn't say anything.

"If you need to go so badly, then why haven't you left yet?"

There was a long pause. Harry sighed again, and Ginny felt his lips plant a kiss on the back of her neck. "I love you," he offered feebly, but Ginny didn't say anything. With that, the room fell silent.

'_How much longer is this going to last, Harry Potter?'_ Ginny wondered. She looked down at her wedding band, and then suddenly regretted not kissing Harry before he left.

Ever since Harry had been promoted a year ago, he had been taking late-night shifts on assignments that, Ginny knew for fact having lived with a Ministry of Magic employee for all of her life, never would have required such late-night work-hours. Assignments such as exploding kitchen knives and singing tapestries.

And then, Harry had invited _her_ over for dinner. _Her_ being Cassandra Wilt. _Her _being his new secretary. _Her_ being his new secretary who was absolutely gorgeous compared to plain, boring, ordinary Ginny, with her long blond hair and her astonishing blue eyes. _Her_ being the wench who had proceeded to explain that if Ginny had added a little more salt to the roast they ate that night, it would have made the sauce 'absolutely superb.'Oh, how Ginny _hated _her!

Ginny sighed, and crawled out of bed. She wondered what her sister-in-law, Hermione, was up to.

- - -

"Oh look, Ginny! Isn't this lovely?" Hermione held up a tiny, velvet purple dress up to her stomach. The two were in Teeley Gray's Baby Shoppe, which was a new shop in Hogsmeade that sold clothing for baby wizards and witches and expecting mothers. Hermione had wanted to take a look at it. She had found out seven months ago that she was pregnant, and was due to have her first child with Ginny's elder brother, Ron, in a little under a month. Ginny toyed the tiny little handbag that came with it.

"It's absolutely adorable." Ginny knew her voice sounded strained, but she forced a smile anyway, hoping that Hermione didn't notice. She probably would, though; Hermione was an Auror, and it was nearly impossible to get anything by her. The two had been looking at baby clothing for almost an hour and a half, and Ginny was starting to feel tired."But what would a baby put in a handbag?"

If Hermione noticed Ginny's feigned interest, she didn't say anything. She shrugged. "A pacifier, maybe?"

"Do you know if it's going to be a girl or a boy?" Ginny peered over at another dress which was blue, and came with white stockings. She ran her finger over the soft fabric.

"Ron is absolutely convinced that it's going to be a boy. I think it's going to be a girl. My mum and Molly think so too." Hermione held the dress out and cocked her head to the side. Her brow furrowed, as though she were thinking very hard. "I don't know, though, Ginny. If the baby has red hair, it would just clash with the purple."

"Then go with the green one," Ginny pointed at dress similar to the purple one that Hermione held, except it was a deep, forest green color. "That way if the baby has brown hair like yours, it would still look nice."

Hermione nodded, and she took the green dress off of the rack, putting back the purple one. Ginny wondered what Hermione would do if the baby was actually a boy, and not a girl. Then again, Ginny's mother had enough experience bearing children after having seven of them and Ginny was sure her mother's predictions as to Hermione's baby being a girl and not a boy were dead-on.

It was hard to believe that her first niece or nephew was soon about to enter the world. It seemed not so long ago that Ginny had just learned of the pregnancy, and that the birth of the baby seemed so far away. New babies were something that Ginny had always enjoyed. She loved taking care of them at St. Mungo's.

"Are you all right, Ginny?" Ginny looked up at Hermione, who looked concerned.

"Yes, I was just thinking."

"About what?"

'_About Harry. About this thing we call our marriage.' _"Nothing, Hermione. It's just been really stressful lately at St. Mungo's. It seems like everyone in wizarding Britain is having a baby." Ginny forced a smile, and eyed an adorable maroon dress directly behind Hermione. She lifted it off of the rack, and held it out. "How about this one? I can imagine a little red-headed, curly-haired Weasley girl crawling all over the floor in this one..."

Hermione touched her finger to the tip of her nose in thought. It was a strange habit that she picked up sometime after learning she was pregnant. "Maybe you should buy it."

"What! Why!" Ginny exclaimed. She held the dress out to get a better look at it.

"For when you and Harry have children."

Ginny stopped and stared at the dress in her hands. _For when you and Harry have children._ It was as though the words had smacked her in the face. She and Harry had never talked about having children before. They hadn't even talked about getting a puppy to keep in their flat, much less about having children. And yet, while the idea seemed so alien to Ginny, it seemed so right.

_For when you and Harry have children._ For a moment, she tried to picture what her daughter (if she were to have one) would look like. She would probably have Harry's colored hair, but Ginny's curls. And her eyes would be just like Harry's: green as emeralds, and shaped like almonds. She would definitely have the Weasley cheeks, but she would have the Potter smile.

Ginny sighed and put the dress back. She eyed the mischievous smile on Hermione's face. "I don't know, Hermione. We've never talked about having children before. I don't think we're ready yet."

"Oh, don't let your mother hear you say that!" Hermione rolled her eyes, "As though one grandchild isn't enough. She's been asking me if you've... you know..."

"For the lack of a better term, Hermione... gotten knocked up?"

Hermione nodded and laughed. Her laugh made Ginny chuckle. That was always something that Ginny loved about her sister-in-law; she had an infectious laugh, and she could always brighten the room. "She mentions it at least once in every conversation."

"I still don't know. Children. That's permanent. I wouldn't be able to throw them away if I got tired of them," the witches laughed, "And Harry's always so busy..."

"I know what you mean, with Ron working for the Ministry and all." Hermione let out a little sigh and rubbed her stomach, "But he still always finds time to come home and tell me how his day went."

Ginny held back a sigh. She wished she could say the same about Harry. She wished she could tell Hermione that they were expecting a child. She wished she could be getting excited about picking out names and buying clothes and toys and all kinds of baby gadgets and gizmos. But she couldn't. All because Harry was too busy at the Ministry to start a family. There was no expecting a child, there was no getting excited about names, and there were no toys, no gadgets and gizmos.

"Here," Hermione took the dress off of the rack again and handed it to Ginny. "I really think you should buy it. Who knows? Maybe it will inspire him." Hermione looked down at her belly. "Do you want to go to the Leaky Cauldron after this? I'm in the mood for some hot cocoa."

Ginny nodded and followed Hermione to the cashier. As Hermione dropped a few galleons and sickles onto the counter, she smiled at Ginny, "Harry would be a wonderful father." Ginny smiled in agreement and looked at the shelves of baby trinkets behind the cashier. Mainly they were picture frames and charm bracelets. The kinds of things you bought a baby, but didn't give to him or her until after they were older.

"Ginny?" Ginny looked up at Hermione, who was holding her purchase bag. "Are you going to stand there, or are you going to buy the dress?"

Ginny looked down at the little maroon garment. She had forgotten that she had even been holding it. She remembered the image of her imaginary daughter wearing the dress and smiling up at her. Nodding, she smiled. "I guess I'll buy it. You can never be too prepared."

- - -

When Ginny came home from the Leaky Cauldron, she found a Ministry Owl happily stealing food from Harry's old school owl, Hedwig's, dish. There was a small piece of parchment tied to his leg. Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes, sitting at the kitchen table and pulling out the new book she had bought from Flourish and Blotts. She didn't want to read the letter. She knew it would be from Harry._ I'm going to be late tonight, _it would say. _Don't leave any dinner on the table, I'll just grab something at the Leaky Cauldron before I go home. _

The owl noticed that Ginny had blatantly ignored him, and he gracefully flew from his perch in Hedwig's cage to the tabletop. He proudly stuck out his leg and waited for Ginny to remove the parchment.

"Go away! Shoo!" Ginny waved her hand at the owl, who ruffled his feathers and kept his leg outstretched. "Just take the damn thing back to Harry. I don't want it."

The owl didn't move. Ginny huffed, and took her book into her bedroom. Maybe if she ignored the owl long enough, he would just leave. Ginny sat down on her bed and crossed her ankles, opening her book. It wasn't two minutes later that the owl flopped down on her bed, and stuck out his leg.

Sighing, Ginny untied the parchment, and watched as the owl took off in satisfaction. Not wanting to read it–what was the point in reading the letter if she already knew what it said?–she kicked it off the bed and opened her book. She really wished Harry wasn't such a pain sometimes.


	3. January 8th

_January 8, 2003_

Ginny quietly slipped through the front door of the apartment which was dark and still, aside from Hedwig's soft rustling in her cage. Over the years, Hedwig had begun to travel out into the night less and less. It was a sign of the inevitable; Hedwig was flying into her later years, and soon she would be drifting into oblivion. It was a sad, but humbling, thought to the young witch who locked the apartment door behind her, and put her Mediwitch's bag on the kitchen table. Ginny walked over to Hedwig's cage and looked at the beautiful old bird, whose feathers were as white as the snow outside.

"I take it you didn't want to go hunting tonight?" Ginny asked softly. Hedwig just peered up at her lazily, as if to say, _'No, I don't think so, tonight, Love. But thanks for asking, anyway._' Ginny nodded in agreement. "I don't blame you, girl. I really don't. The weather's terrible outside." She reached through the opened cage door (Harry insisted on leaving it open at night) and affectionately ran her fingers over Hedwig's soft, feathery head. Hedwig offered a tiny hoot in response.

Ginny sighed. She kicked her Mediwitch's shoes off, pushing them under the kitchen table, and slowly padded into the bedroom. She stopped when she noticed the long, lightly-breathing lump on the bed under the thick blankets. Harry was home for once. Ginny watched him, somewhat surprised. Her shift at St. Mungo's started at 6 in the evening, and ended at 3 in the morning. She would have thought Harry would have still been at the Ministry by now.

Harry rolled over in bed, grunting lightly. A small grin pricked at the corner of Ginny's mouth. As much as Harry was a pain, she still loved to watch him sleep. She quietly walked over to the bed, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Harry stirred.

"Hey Gin," he mumbled, still sleeping. "I was waiting for you to get home."

"I'm sure you were," she whispered, stroking his hair. It was soft under her fingertips. As mad as she was at him, she still couldn't help but notice how her heart skipped a beat every time he said her name. And, as mad as she was at him, she decided it was best to let sleeping lions lay. Fights, arguments, and rows were best left for the daytime; at night, it was best to just let things be. It was best to just be human. After all, wasn't that what the nighttime was for?

Ginny thought about a hot shower before bed, but decided that it could wait for morning. Tonight had been a busy, busy night. The Finnigans (Seamus, the father, had been a friend of Harry's when he was at Hogwarts) had welcomed a new baby girl–Charissa–into the world not ten minutes after Ginny arrived at St. Mungo's, and their son–Tyler–had literally been a bouncing ball of energy. Although Ginny loved working with newborn witches and wizards, she found the work environment utterly hectic. Usually, when a witch went to have a baby, the majority of the baby's parents' families were there. It made getting her job done extremely exhausting. She was glad that she was the last child of the seven Weasley children, seeing as she would never have wanted to be crammed up in the maternity ward with all of her brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins in order to welcome a new sibling into the world.

As quietly as possible, Ginny shed her Mediwitch's clothing and slipped into one of Harry's t-shirts. She crawled into bed beside Harry. Although she tried hard to not disturb him, he grunted and rolled over to face her anyway.

"Gin, you're home." Harry murmured groggily, rubbing his eyes and scratching the side of his head. He was awake now; his words had been more coherent than the first time that he had announced the fact that she was home.

"So you noticed." Ginny replied, slipping beneath the covers. She rolled over onto her side, and looked at Harry, who had rested his head on his arm. His green, almond-shaped eyes, though still half-asleep, stared back at her intently. She wondered for a brief moment if she appeared fuzzy to him, as he did not have his glasses on.

"Are you still mad at me?" He asked. He blinked, though the blink was long. It looked like it took a lot of energy for him to open his eyes again.

"Yes."

"Oh."

"But I don't feel like getting into another row with you right now."

Harry nodded, yawned, and blinked again. And again, it looked like it took a lot of energy for him to open his eyes. "Why are you mad at me?"

"I just said that I didn't want to get into another row with you. I really don't feel like talking about this right now. It will only piss you off, which in turn will piss me off, and I frankly just want to go to sleep. I had a long, long shift tonight." Harry rubbed the side of his face with his hand, and sighed.

"All right," He mumbled. "Well, whatever I did, I'm sorry."

Ginny thought about pulling a Molly Weasley by asking him exactly what he was sorry for. _'You can't say you're sorry and not know what for! Apologies don't work like that!' _her mother would have said. But Ginny wasn't her mother, and Ginny wasn't interested in depriving her body of any more sleep than she already had.

"Do you forgive me?" Harry asked, breaking Ginny's train of thought. She looked at him, and noticed that his eyes were shut. His face was so peaceful when he slept. A smile crept across her face. She sat up and pressed her back against Harry's chest. She closed her eyes, taking in Harry's scent; soap, shampoo, and a light trace of butterbeer.

"For now," Ginny replied, partly joking. Nighttime was a time for rest, after all. And Ginny was going to let sleeping lions lay.

His chin fell on the top of her head, and his arm wound around her waist. Their fingers entwined.

"I guess that's better than a no," he whispered.

Ginny smiled and watched as snow began to fall outside. The flakes were, at first, small and light. But they gradually got bigger, thicker. Rather odd weather for England; they hardly got that much snow in an entire year, let alone the amount of snow that had fallen in the last week. But Ginny wasn't complaining. She loved the snow.

It was Harry's light breathing that lulled her to sleep.

- - -

Ginny awoke the next morning to the screech of an owl. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that her husband's spot on the bed was empty (yet again, he had left without so much as saying goodbye) and a large brown owl, much like a Ministry owl, was standing in its place. Instead of the normal parchment tied to its leg, however, it held a small, lavender-colored card in its beak. The owl was Fledge. He had been a gift to Ginny's father after he had retired from the Ministry a year ago. Ginny yawned.

"Hullo, Fledge," she mumbled as she rubbed her eyes, and retrieved the card from his beak. She noticed that his feathers were cold and wet. When she looked outside the bedroom window, she saw that it was still snowing. "Rather interesting weather we're having, huh?" The owl clucked its beak in agreement. "You can stay with Hedwig until the weather lets up."

As if on cue, the owl flew over to Hedwig's cage, and perched on top of it.

Ginny climbed out of bed and began toward the kitchen. She opened the card as she walked through the hallway.

_Ginny,_

_How is everything, dear? Is Harry eating all right? He seems to get skinnier every time I see him. Do tell him that if he needs to get fattened up, you both are welcomed to come have dinner with us._

_Well as you know, Ron and Hermione's baby is due in only a few weeks. Your father and I wish to have a nice family dinner tomorrow in order to celebrate before the baby is born. We would like to invite you over at around 6._

_There's a blizzard outside. Rather odd, no? It's supposed to let up around 2. If you may, send Fledge then. Hope to hear from you. I love you. Tell Harry I said hello, and that I love him, too._

_-Mum-_

"Of course I'll go, Mum." Ginny said to no one in particular. She picked up a quill from the table, and began scribbling at the bottom of the letter in green ink.

_Mum,_

_You can count on seeing Harry and I there. We'll see you on Friday._

_-Ginny-_

Ginny looked over at Fledge. He had hidden his head under his wing. "Fledge?" The bird lifted his head to look at her. Ginny put the card on the table. "You may take this to my mother later." He slipped his head back under his wing again, as if to say, _'You're damned right I'll take that to your mother later. There's no way I'm going back out in that weather again!'_

Ginny imagined Hermione wouldn't want to go to Diagon Alley today. She imagined she was still laying in bed next to Ron, mainly because Ron wouldn't want to go out in this weather as much as Fledge didn't. If the snow gave him an excuse to stay home, he would stay home. Harry, on the other hand, was a different story. Ginny felt the exasperation and anger from yesterday rise in her chest. Why was Harry so frustrating?

The bag with Ginny's purchases from Teeley Gray's was still sitting on the kitchen table. Without thinking, Ginny opened it and removed the little maroon dress. "A little Weasley girl... even a little Potter girl... would look absolutely adorable in this. I wonder why Hermione didn't buy it for herself."

_Maybe you should buy it... for when you and Harry have children, _Hermione had said.

Yeah, as if that was going to happen anytime soon.

Ginny looked back at the little dress. Maybe her daughter would have Ginny's fiery, red-colored hair, and Harry's...whatever his hair did. It was always so messy. _'Merlin, I'd have to have Hermione charm the baby's hair, otherwise it would be all over the place!'_ Ginny thought. Perhaps her daughter would have Ginny's eyes; deep, rich brown. She would definitely have Ginny's cheeks; there was no such thing as a Weasley baby without pudgy cheeks. But, she would probably grow up to be tall and thin, just like Harry.

"You're getting way too far ahead of yourself, Ginevra," Ginny scolded herself, folding the dress and putting it back in the bag. "Harry cannot even commit to sleeping at home every night, what makes you think that he would commit to being a father?"

'_Still, you never know. Being a father just might be the thing to save this thing you call a marriage,'_ Ginny cursed herself. Her biological clock (or whatever muggles called it) was sending her subliminal messages that she really didn't want to hear. Or did she? She loved babies, she loved children. She had always known that she would be a good mother. So what was so wrong about wanting children of her own?

Oh Merlin. She finally did it. She finally admitted to herself the one thing she really didn't want to admit to herself.

Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter wanted a child. A baby.

Ginny shook her head. It wouldn't be happening soon. So why bother?

Rather than eating breakfast, Ginny stood up and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. She definitely felt the need to bathe.

- - -

The only thing that Ginny didn't like about snow was that while it was actually falling, there was absolutely nothing to do outside, unless you wanted to feel like your face had frozen to the point that it was going to fall off.

Throughout the day, Ginny puttered around the apartment; washing dishes, feeding Fledge and Hedwig a few pieces of meat from the leftover stew that Harry had brought home from the Leaky Cauldron the night before, and refueling the fireplace with wood that she had transfigured from old school papers that she and Harry had written when they were still at Hogwarts. She didn't know why they still had their old papers; they were just old essays on Potions, Runes, Charms, and the like. It had been two and a half years since they had gotten married, five and a half years since Harry had left Hogwarts–four and a half for Ginny, seeing as she was a year younger than he–and yet she always found at least one essay or two every time she attempted to clean out Harry's office. Not that it mattered. Harry hardly ever used his office, anyway.

There were two rooms in their apartment that the couple hardly ever used. The first room was Harry's office. When Harry had first taken the job at the Ministry, he assumed he would be doing much of his work at home. However, that assumption proved to be wrong, and the office, even though it did have a desk and a tiny library, was mainly used for storage. The second room was the guest bedroom. For some reason, Ginny thought that it would have been prudent to have a spare bedroom, just in case a friend of the couple needed a place to bed for the night. However, no such occasion had ever occurred, and the room was hardly ever used nowadays.

The snowstorm indeed let up a great deal at around 2 in the afternoon, and Ginny sent Fledge back to the Burrow with her reply to her mother's invitation.

At around 6, very much to Ginny's surprise, Harry returned home. As he walked in from the front door, he quickly shed his Ministry robes (shaking snow onto the welcome rug) and hung them up on the coat rack that Ginny had bought, mainly for decoration.

"You're home!" she chirped, running over to him. In a very immature, and very unlady-like, way, she jumped into his arms, sending Harry against the front door, grunting. He caught Ginny right under her thighs.

"Happy to see me?" He asked her, cocking his eyebrow.

Ginny nodded, "Very much so."

Harry nodded slowly, his face still contorted with confusion. "All right, then. I'm happy to see you, too." He lowered Ginny onto the floor,"I guess you're not mad at me anymore?"

"Well, you came home early, so I decided to not be mad at you anymore." Ginny pecked his lips, and wrapped her arms around his neck, attempting to pull him closer. She was hoping he would get the hint that she really wanted to kiss him for all it was worth.

Harry, however, was none too quick to catch on. He pecked her forehead, and continued into the apartment, kicking his shoes off and sliding them under the table next to Ginny's Mediwitch's shoes. Ginny frowned.

"How was your day?" she asked as he sat down at the kitchen table. She came up behind Harry and wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on top of his head. The two rocked gently to and fro.

"Busy. It was a very busy day." He sighed, untying his tie and pulling it from around his neck. He brought his hands up to his head and began rubbing his temples methodically.

Ginny massaged his shoulders. "You feel tense. Maybe you need a hot shower." She leaned over, and lightly kissed his neck. "And some nice...hot...lovin'," she whispered, against his skin.

Harry lightly pushed her lips away from his neck. "Not now, Gin. I'm very tired."

Ginny tried again, this time running her hands down his chest. "Oh, come on, Love. You know it would do you some good."

Harry shook his head and lightly pushed her back again. "What would do me good is a nice, hot shower, and a long night's sleep." He sighed and scratched his head.

Ginny bit down on her lip, slightly embarrassed that her attempt at seduction had failed. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and wrapped her arms around Harry again. Her chin found the top of his head. "My mum invited us over for dinner tomorrow night. Six o'clock. I told her you would be there."

Harry nodded. "Sounds like a blast. I will most definitely be there."

Ginny snaked around him to look at him in the eyes. "Do you promise, Harry? You _will_ be there? You're not going to run out on me just because you have to work late for the Ministry?"

He kissed her cheek. "I promise, Ginny, I'll be there."

She searched his eyes, looking to find the truth. They shined back at her with utmost sincerity. Ginny smiled and kissed the very tip of his nose. "All right, I'm counting on you to keep that promise, you hear?"

Harry smiled, and Ginny felt his fingers on the back of her head. He pulled her closer, and wrapped her in a long, gentle kiss. For once, in a very long time, his kiss seemed heartfelt, and not forced. For once, his kiss seemed... _real_. It had been so long since Ginny had ever felt so entranced by him. It had been so long since Ginny had ever felt like she wanted to just melt in his arms.

Ginny's fingers found the side of his smooth, chiseled face, and they trailed all the way down to his shoulders. Her lips began tracing kisses down his neck. Harry lightly pushed her away again.

"Really, Gin, I'm very tired." He put his hand to her cheek. "Maybe some other time?"

Ginny stepped back and stared at Harry. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could hear her heart break. She slowly nodded, although she felt strangely numb. It was as if the sudden descent from that one moment of perfection to rock bottom had ripped her to pieces. She felt like she wanted to cry, but she couldn't because she knew there was no reason to. She felt like she wanted to scream, but would that really justify her anger? _'Why won't you make love to me, anymore, Harry!'_ And if she did scream that, what would the neighbors think? Instead, she just simply nodded again, and stepped back. Harry stood up, and pecked her on the cheek again.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. Really. But I'm very tired, I've had a really rough day, and–"

"Don't worry about it, Harry," she interrupted, walking over to the cupboard and pulling out a glass. She needed a drink of water. A drink of wine. Butterbeer. Firewhiskey. It didn't matter. She needed to calm her nerves.

Harry looked like he was having a hard time finding something to say. Finally, he just sighed, "All right, then, I won't. But I'm going to take a shower now, all right?"

Ginny nodded at him, pouring water into her glass from the kitchen tap, and taking a long drink. Harry walked over and placed a kiss on her cheek before heading into the bathroom.

After she heard the water turn on, Ginny sat her glass down on the kitchen table and tiptoed over to the bathroom door. She turned the knob, only to find that Harry had locked it.

- - -

_Diary,_

_Harry locked the bathroom door today, something that he had stopped doing since before we were married. Something happened at the office, today, I just know it. That was why he came home early. That was why he pushed me away in the way that he had._

_This is not going to last much longer, and knowing that hurts. It feels like a rug has been ripped out from under my feet, and the world is crumbling right before my eyes. I wish he would just tell me what was so wrong that he doesn't want to make love to me anymore._

_Does he even still love me?_

_-Ginevra-_


	4. January 9th

_January 9, 2003_

There is always that one place in a wizard's life where he feels completely at peace, where he feels safe, where he feels untouchable. For Ginny, that place was in the crowded, bustling, and continuously noisy confines of the house that she had grown up in, called the Burrow.

On the outside, it was no Malfoy Manor or Hogwarts castle by any means. The place looked as though it had been added on to countless times via magic, and the only way it stayed in tact was through enough charms and spells to rival Gringott's wizarding bank. On the inside, it felt more homely than any Malfoy Manor, and more welcoming than any Hogwarts castle. However crowded, busy, or noisy it was, the Burrow was always Ginny's favorite place to be.

As she stepped through the fireplace (Ginny figured the best way to avoid the cold weather was through the Floo Network), Ginny brushed the soot off of her robes. The living room was just how it had always been, even before Ginny had gotten married and moved into her flat with Harry. That was the one thing she loved about the Burrow; over the years, it hardly ever changed. For Ginny, the Burrow provided a sense of consistency, normalcy.

"I'm here!" she called. "And if I dare find out that someone has bewitched the bathroom sink to spew mud when I go to wash the soot off of my face, I will surely hex you with the strongest wart-conjuring charm that I can remember!" That was a memory that Ginny had wanted to forget from last year, but Fred and George would not let her live it down. And knowing Fred and George, that memory was probably going to follow Ginny to her grave.

"Ginny!" Hermione was the first to greet her, waddling as fast as she could into the living room. Ginny smiled. Although Hermione was nearly eight and a half months pregnant, she was still beautiful. It was easy to see why Ron had fallen in love with her. Hermione wrapped her in a quick hug. "I'm so glad you could make it! Where's Harry?"

Ginny shrugged. "He said he would be here. He had to work today, and he told me that he would meet me here when he was done." She cast a quick glance at the fireplace, as though Harry would suddenly appear the moment his name was said. "Let's just hope that he speaks clearly for the Floo Network. We won't want him popping into one of the fireplaces at the Malfoy Manor or anything." The witches laughed as Molly Weasley shuffled into the room in order to hug her only daughter.

"Ginny, dear! It's so good to see you again!" Molly hugged her tightly, and ran her fingers through her hair. "Where's Harry?"

"He's coming," Ginny said. A pang of annoyance shot through her. She knew that she would have to answer this question at least eight or nine more times. "Where are all the boys?" 'The boys' were Ginny's five elder brothers, excluding Percy, who hadn't spoken to the family in ages, much to the family's dismay.

Molly chuckled and pointed into the kitchen. "Bill is in the kitchen, and Ron, Fred, and George are de-gnoming the garden. Charlie won't be here tonight, seeing as there's problems in Romania right now."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "They're probably out there throwing snowballs at the gnomes instead of just tossing them out. Trying to get a rise out of them, you know, so that they can start a min-snowball war of sorts." Ginny giggled. Part of her wanted to go out there and join in on the fun, but another part of her wanted to stay inside, where it was warm. She loved the snow, but not enough to freeze to death.

"Come on in, dear. I'll fix us some tea while we wait for the turkey to finish." Molly ushered her daughter into the kitchen, where Ginny saw her eldest brother, Bill, sitting placidly at the table, drinking out of a mug. He looked the same then as he always had: long red hair tied back, his dragon-fang earring, and muggle clothing. That was one thing that Bill and Ginny had in common, they both had a strong interest in muggle clothing.

"Ginny!" he greeted cheerfully, standing up and wrapping Ginny into a warm hug.

Ginny hugged him back tightly. He smelled like cinnamon. "Hullo Bill. I haven't seen you in a long time."

"Likewise." He sat down in his seat again, and casually took a sip out of his mug. "Where's Harry?"

"On his way," Ginny answered, taking a seat at the table next to Hermione. She hoped she didn't sound as annoyed to them as she did in her own ears.

The truth was, Ginny actually had no clue as to where Harry was. Right after she had discovered that Harry had locked her out of the bathroom, Ginny went straight to bed without so much as another word to him. The mere thought of him made her blood boil with anger. She went to sleep before Harry came to bed, and when she woke up, she found that he had already left for the Ministry, which was fine with her because she could not even stand to look at him.

But, she had expected him to come home before she left for the Burrow. He had promised to go to the dinner, after all, and Harry always kept his promises. However, at quarter to six, he had still not shown up at the flat. Figuring that Harry could find his own way to the Burrow, Ginny went on without him. It was a little past six o'clock, now, and Ginny was sure that Harry would keep his promise. He would show up, eventually. It was better to be late than never to show up at all, right?

"Well we can wait for him. The turkey has at least another half an hour before its done." Although Molly was completely capable of cooking a dinner with magic, she had taken to cooking food the muggle way. Ginny supposed it had something to do with all of her children being grown up and living on their own; muggle cooking simply gave her something to do. Molly sat down at the table beside Bill. Ginny hadn't heard her mention anything about cutting his hair, or getting rid of his earring, so Ginny assumed that she had already gone through that with him before her arrival.

The back door swung open, and Ginny's elder brother Ron, poked his face into the kitchen. "I just came back to get the–Oi! Ginny's here!" There was a thunder of footsteps, and Fred and George's identical twin faces appeared in the kitchen. Ginny found herself being wrapped in a whirlwind of cold, snow-covered hugs. Although chilly, she laughed anyway. If there was ever a good thing about being the youngest child of seven children, and the only daughter, it was the fact that she had elder brothers who absolutely adored her..

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked. Ginny shrugged. Why did everyone want to know where Harry was?

Then again, she was beginning to wonder the same thing.

"He should be here any moment, he's running a little late."

Ginny felt as though she were constantly apologizing for him, which was a feeling she did not like at all. She decided that she was going to have a serious word with Mr. Potter once they got back to their apartment.

"Well that's all right," Ron said. "Better late than never." He walked over to Hermione and pecked her cheek before he and the twins disappeared upstairs. Ginny had a bad feeling about what they were up to, but decided to keep her apprehension to herself. Sometimes, it was just best to leave them to their own experiments.

Bill took a sip from his mug, and Hermione rubbed her belly thoughtfully. "I think I've decided on names," she said, grinning. Bill, Molly, and Ginny all looked up.

"What are they?" Molly asked with excitement.

Hermione snickered, "Not telling. It's going be a surprise." Her eyes followed the invisible path Ron and the twins had left behind as they had dashed up the stairs. "Doesn't matter, though," she added, "it all depends on what color hair the baby has."

"Talk about a cliffhanger," Bill chided, holding his mug up to Hermione in a mock toast. He took another sip. "You could have at least give us the names so that we could all take bets."

"We will most certainly _not_ take bets on the name of that child!" Molly interjected, "That will end up a _disaster_! Don't you remember the _last_ time there was a bet and Fred and George got involved in it?"

The three laughed, and Bill muttered something about taking bets on hair color, it they couldn't take bets on names. Ginny glanced into the door to the living room, half-expecting Harry's form to appear in the doorway. He had said he would be here, so why wasn't he here yet? Anger was beginning to rise in Ginny's chest. Harry had _promised_ that he would be here. He _promised_ that he would come tonight. If he didn't show up at all, tonight–if he was still at the Ministry–that was it, Ginny had told herself. She was going to have to do something drastic.

There was a shuffling in the living room, and Ginny quickly straightened up, feeling her anger wash away almost immediately. Harry was finally here! She smiled up at the doorway, only to realize that her father, Arthur, was standing in the entrance to the kitchen. The anger immediately returned even stronger, now.

"Evening, Weasleys," he greeted cheerfully, delicately dropping a kiss on the top of Hermione's head, and Ginny's cheek. He met Molly with a kiss on the lips. "Where is everyone?"

"Well, Ron and the twins are causing havoc upstairs, and Harry isn't here yet," Molly answered, pulling the chair next to her out so that her husband could sit beside her.

Arthur looked at his daughter, puzzled. "Harry isn't here yet?"

"No, he said he would get off as soon as possible, though," Ginny answered. She tried hard to keep herself from avoiding her father's gaze by looking at the table; it would be a dead giveaway that she was upset. Her father could always tell when something was wrong with his baby girl.

Arthur looked at the Weasley clock on the wall, and then scratched his head. "I figured if he had been at the Ministry, he would have been here by now..."

Ginny shrugged. Words could not describe exactly how she felt. It was deeper than sadness, and more scathing than anger. It was more biting than hatred, and more caustic than bitterness. Ginny finally gave up keeping their gazes met, and looked down at her hands on the table –more, at the ring on her finger– and then shrugged. She forced a smile at her father, hoping that he wouldn't notice how upset she was.

"He's been working really hard, lately," she said. Her voice sounded so fake to her own ears. She quickly looked over at the kitchen window, where she could see the garden-gnomes sneaking their way back into her mother's plants; she didn't want to look at her family. It would have been too easy to recognize how upset she was.

Ron and the twins appeared in the kitchen, Ron approaching Hermione from behind and placing his large Keeper's hands on her shoulders. Hermione put her hands on his.

"Is Harry here yet?" He asked. Ginny suddenly felt like screaming. Why was Harry the only thing they could ask about? Couldn't they ask about anything else? "I'm starving."

"No," Ginny finally said. "But let's start anyway. I'm sure he'll show up sooner or later."

Suddenly, dinner didn't seem like a good idea. Suddenly, Ginny felt like she just wanted to go home.

- - -

An hour and a half after Ginny had dinner, she took the Floo Network back to the flat. Harry had not showed up, and Ginny had to constantly make up excuses as to why he would miss it. As she stepped out of the fireplace and into the living room of the flat, she kicked her shoes off. She thought about sliding them under the kitchen table, like she always did because Harry hated tripping over shoes that had been left in the middle of the floor, but she decided against it. Why should she bother, anyway? It wasn't like Harry had bothered in coming to dinner as he had promised, after all. Ginny felt terrible that he hadn't shown up. Molly had invited him, too, and Ginny had told her that he would be there.

She wanted a shower. A shower to wash Harry off of her. She needed it. She padded into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. The fuzzy white carpet in the middle of the bathroom floor ticked here toes. She turned the tap on, and slowly began shedding her clothing.

As her blouse fluttered to the floor on top of her rumpled robes, she examined her body in the mirror. What was so wrong with her that Harry didn't want her anymore? Ginny had always been of short stature, and had always been petite. Harry had told her once that her being so 'tiny' made her all the more 'desirable' to him. Ginny turned in the mirror, eyeing a tiny birthmark on her shoulder blade. It was more or less a blob, but somewhat resembled a butterfly. Her mother had once told her that she had gotten the birthmark when her father accidentally dropped his wand when he discovered that he finally had a baby girl. Little pink sparks had shot out of the end of his wand as it hit the floor, and one had happened to strike her shoulder. Ginny had been fine, of course, but carried the scar that she was quite fond of.

She could remember the first time that Harry had ever noticed it. She had snuck into the Gryffindor boys' dormitory during her sixth year, and had climbed into his bed. He had been kissing her neck when his fingertips had brushed the scar on her shoulder blade.

Ginny shook her head, exiling the memory. She shed her black skirt and knickers, and stepped into the shower, feeling the water trail down her body. A frown crossed her face. Hotter. The water needed to be hotter. She had to wash Harry off of her. She had to wash him out of her skin. Ginny turned the water up, closing her eyes and feeling the hot spray on her back. She groaned in frustration. It still wasn't hot enough.

Soon, the water was almost scalding. Her skin prickled. Ginny looked down and realized that her legs and feet were as red as her hair. Still, the water wasn't hot enough to wash Harry away. Ginny felt tears blurring her vision. If she made the water any hotter, surely she would burn herself. Her throat constricted, and Ginny swallowed the lump that had formed. She braced herself on the wall of the shower, and sobbed.

She was still crying when she turned the tap off and stepped out, wrapping herself in a large white towel. She dried herself off, slipping into a pair of black sweat pants and a white halter top, and pulling her long hair into a dripping plait. Ginny could never remember a time when her hair fell above her shoulder blades. Her hair was the one thing she loved about herself. Despite the fact that red hair was a very common – if not necessary – trait to have in her family, it was quite uncommon elsewhere in the wizarding world. Her mother had always encouraged her to wear her hair very long. "It gives you grace, poise, and elegance, dear," she had said.

Ginny slowly made her way into her bedroom and looked around. The bed had not been made since that morning, and the rumpled sheets, although spotless, looked dirty. Harry had slept on them. Harry had tossed and turned on them. Ginny didn't want to touch the sheets. Instead, she walked over to the closet door and swung it opened. She spotted her old Hogwarts trunk sitting forgotten in the corner, and yanked it out of the dusty darkness. She plopped the trunk into an old chair, and began carefully folding clothes and packing them inside.She would have done all of her packing by wand, but decided that it would be safer to do them by hand. The last time she had tried to perform magic when she was this angry, she had accidentally broken on old vase that she had found in Diagon Alley.

She was half-way through packing her socks when she heard Harry open the front door to the apartment and kick his shoes under the kitchen table. He appeared a moment later in the bedroom doorway.

"Are we going somewhere?" He asked. Ginny took a brief second to acknowledge his presence. He was leaning on the doorframe in his Ministry robes, a casual smirk on his face and his arms crossed.

'_How dare he have that stupid smile on his face!'_ Ginny thought. _'It's as though he thinks its all a big joke!'_

"I am. You're not," she said curtly, throwing her folded Mediwitch's robes into her bag.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked with interest. Ginny ignored him.

Silently, he crept up behind her and trailed his forefinger down her plait. He snaked his arms low around her waist and grazed his lips against her neck. Ginny straightened up and let out a deep breath through her nose.

"Get off me, Harry. Now." She growled. Harry began rocking back and forth, trailing little kisses down her neck. "I said, get off me Harry. Right... _now."_

Harry took the hint this time, and gently pulled away. His brow was knit. "Ginny? Are you all right?"

"Sod off."

There was a stunned pause as Ginny went back to folding. She only had two more pairs of Mediwitch's robes to fold and pack before she was done.

"Ginny... what did I do?"

"Nothing."

"So then.. why are you angry at me?"

Ginny stopped folding the robes in her hands, and looked straight ahead through the bedroom windows. Across the street, her neighbor, Jack, was reading a book in his overstuffed armchair. She let out another huff through her nose, making sure to tell herself to count to ten before she exploded.

'_...1, 2, 3...'_

"Why are you mad at me, Ginny?" Harry asked again. His voice was soft. Almost as though he genuinely didn't know what was wrong with her. _'How could he _not_ know?'_ Ginny asked herself furiously. _'How he could not have known what he did?'_

'_...4, 5, 6, 7...'_

"Gin, talk to me," his voice was almost begging. Whining. The irritating sound made Ginny want to slap him. Ginny's eyes narrowed, never moving away from the elderly bald-headed wizard across the street. "Please?"

'_...8, 9...10.'_

Finally, Ginny whirled, snatching her wand from her pocket and pointing it at the infamous lightning bolt-shaped scar in the middle of his forehead. "You want to know what's wrong with me Harry? You did _nothing!_ As in you didn't do _anything!_ _That's_ what's wrong with me, Harry! You don't do _anything!_ You don't come home anymore, you don't eat dinner with me anymore, you don't make love to me anymore!"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head vigorously, throwing her hair out of her face, "No, _you_ listen to _me,_ Harry!" She began toward him, her voice getting louder and louder with each step she took. Harry's back met the bedroom wall. "You don't love me, anymore! All you love is the Merlin-foresaken Ministry, and fucking that bloody tart you call your secretary!"

His face contorted with confusion. But Ginny didn't care. She wanted to say this. She _needed_ to say this. He could feign all the confusion he wanted, Ginny was not about to let up.

"Oh, bloody hell, Harry! _Don't you dare _try to act like you have no clue as to what I'm talking about! Coming home late at night, leaving before I wake up. Missing out on family dinners! _A FAMILY DINNER THAT YOU PROMISED TO GO TO! _What else would you be doing at the Ministry? Having a tea party with the white rabbit and the mad hatter!"She was screaming now, screaming so loud that she felt like her face was about to peel off. Screaming so loud that she felt like a demon was about to unzip her body like a Halloween costume, and step right out of it. She pointed her wand threateningly at his Adam's apple.

"I'm tired of this, Harry! I'm tired of you acting as though I don't even exist! I'm tired of you leaving in the morning without even saying goodbye! I'm tired of you coming home after I've gone to bed without so much as a good night! I'm tired of you lying to me! I'm tired of you _breaking your bloody promises!_"

"Ginny, I–"

Ginny pushed the wand into his throat. He yelped, and swallowed heavily. "I've had it, Harry! I'm tired of all the lying, and I'm tired of all of your broken promises!"

"But–"

Ginny shook her head, stopping Harry in mid-sentence. He knew she wasn't going to listen. Her wand was still poised at Harry's throat. She stared into his eyes.

There had once been a time when Ginevra Weasley had been deeply in love with those eyes. There had once been a time when Ginevra Weasley wanted nothing more than to fall into those eyes and be the center of their owner's universe. There had once been a time when Ginevra Weasley had thought that when she looked into those eyes, she was looking deep into the soul of the wizard that she was going to spend the rest of her life with. But those times were gone, now. Those times were over. The dizzying feelings she had once thought was true love, the butterflies she used to get in her stomach at the mere mention of his name, the smile that made her melt into a pile of red-headed mush were all over. Gone. Those times were completely lost.

"So I'm leaving," she finally said, her voice much more calm now. She lowered her wand to her side and took a deep breath. "I'm leaving."

There was a long, almost unbearable, pause. Ginny could feel tears prickle at the back of her eyes, but she forced them away. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want to appear vulnerable. If she were to appear vulnerable, then she would become vulnerable. If she became vulnerable, then she would fall right back into his arms again. Fall right back into his trap.

'_Say something,'_ she thought desperately, _'say something, please.'_

"You're what?" he finally said. His voice was feeble.

"I'm leaving," she repeated simply. The tears weren't prickling anymore; they were stinging like acid. But she continued to force them away. She was not vulnerable. She was not going to be vulnerable.

Harry swallowed. "What do you mean... you're leaving?"

Ginny turned back to packing her Mediwitch's robes. She was about to fold them, but just gave up, tossed the robes into her trunk, and closed it. "I mean exactly what I said: I'm leaving."

She didn't turn around to look at Harry. She didn't have to. She knew exactly what he looked like. He was standing still –very still– against the bedroom wall, his emerald eyes wide. He would look sad, angry, confused, and shocked–all at once.

"Ginny..." he said weakly.

"Harry, forget it. I'm leaving."

"But, Love–"

Ginny whirled around, knocking the trunk to the floor. _"Don't_ 'love' me. I've made up my mind, and you're not going to change it. You made me look so stupid over there, Harry. You promised you would be there, and you didn't show up. I had to make up excuses as to why you wouldn't come. You made me look stupid. You made me look foolish. And what's worse: you made me look stupid and foolish in front of my _family._ The people who, I shouldn't have to lie to. The people who I _love._ You made me look so stupid in front of them."

Harry's eyes were glassy, as though his tears had moved to the front lines, but they refused to move into enemy territory. She tore her eyes away from his. She was not going to be vulnerable. She was _not_ going to be bloody vulnerable.

"Ginny," he said. His voice wasn't wavering anymore; it was shaking. "Ginny, listen to me. Something came up at the Ministry, there was no way that I could get out of it."

Ginny shook her head, her red locks falling in front of her face. "No, Harry. What you're doing to me is unfair," she reached down and picked her trunk up off of the floor. "When you decide to love me again, like you used to, owl me."

She began toward the bedroom door, but stopped.

"And until you decide to love me again, my name isn't Ginny. It's Ginevra."

The tears were piercing now. But she was not going to cry. She briskly swept out of the flat and out into the street, leaving a stunned Harry behind. As she stepped into the snow, she stopped and looked up at the lit window that looked into her bedroom. The wizard she once thought she was in love with was probably still standing there, in shock. For a brief moment, she wondered what he was thinking.

Snow began to fall again. Small, sweet, delicate flakes falling from a blackened sky. Ginny let her head fall back on her shoulders, feeling the tiny flakes licking her face and nestling in her hair. She closed her eyes.

"_You know, there's no doubt about it," Harry said gently, cupping her chin in his gloved hands. Although it was bitterly, bitterly cold, his fingers were warm. Ginny looked up into his face. His nose was pink. He smiled, green eyes sparkling from behind his glasses. "You are absolutely breathtaking when you've been sprinkled with snow."_

"I only wish you had truly meant it when you said it, Harry." Ginny whispered. She wondered if his secretary was absolutely breathtaking when she was sprinkled with snow, and if he had ever told her so. The thought was enough to make the burning behind her eyes even worse. She opened her eyes. A snowflake landed on the very tip of her nose and dissolved in an instant, much like her love for Harry had dissolved.

A tear slipped down her cheek. And then another. Vulnerability wasn't an option, anymore.


	5. January 10th

_January 10, 2003_

_Harry's lips were so full and so soft, it made Ginny want to kiss them until her own lips were puffy and swollen. By the way his eyes were always sparkling, she knew that he was thinking the same naughty thoughts that passed through her own mind. His groping fingers were exploring every inch of her body, as though they were constantly trying to find a way to release even the tiniest moan from her throat. _

_Seductive, Harry Potter was. Tantalizing, was the game Harry Potter played._

_And he was playing with her now, in the most overt location in Hogwarts castle that he could possibly be playing with her in. She knew it was bad, but there was something about playing with Harry in the Gryffindor common room that made her fingers and toes tingle with excitement. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that the Fat Lady portrait could easily swing open, and they could be caught by Hermione. Or even worse, Ron. Oh, how Ginny would kill to see the look on Ron's face if he could see exactly what the seductive, tantalizing Harry Potter was doing with his kid sister, now._

_Harry's long, soft, and slender fingers lightly trailed down Ginny's open robes, grazing places that made her skin break out into goosebumps. She shivered at his touch. The firelight cast a soft glow on his chiseled features, and it made him all the more desirable when Harry wet his lips. The simple gesture made Ginny's blood bubble with anticipation. She wanted him. She needed him. The tips of Harry's fingers touched the bottom of her chin, and he brought his lips to hers in a long, deep, and tender kiss._

"_You know, I could not have asked for a more beautiful girl in the entire world," he whispered into her ear after he finally pulled away. She ran her fingers through his tousled ebony hair. "You are amazing."_

_And what exactly could one say to that? Ginny's lips curled into a smile and she bit her lip in an attempt to bite back the blush that was sure to flush into her face. She noticed that his gaze had fallen from her eyes to her lips. His gaze was longing and hungry._

"_Say my name," she whispered._

"_Ginny," he whispered back. He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. _

"_No, my real name."_

"_Ginevra," there was a pause. Ginny could feel the heat in her body begin to rise. Her name sounded so natural on his tongue. It rolled off just as gracefully as a phoenix flew in the sky. Her fingers found the back of his neck. His skin was hot to her touch. Harry leaned in closer, breaking the silence again, "Ginevra Potter."_

_Ginny peered up at him incredulously. What did that mean? Was he asking her what she thought he was asking her? Did Harry Potter, _the_ Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, actually just ask her to marry him?_

"_Are you asking what I think you're asking me?" Ginny squeaked. Her hands suddenly felt very warm. She realized that Harry had taken them into his own._

"_Only if it's what you want me to ask," he said softly. His lips–full, soft and oh Merlin, did she want to kiss them–curled into a quirky sort of grin._

"_But Harry, I'm only sixteen."_

"_We can wait. I'll wait as long as you need."_

_There was a pause between them that was both long, and short; comfortable and tense. Ginny found herself lost in his emerald eyes. She felt as though she were trapped, but she wanted to be trapped. She wanted to be lost in those eyes. The silence filled her ears, broken by only a few pops from the fire in the hearth._

_Finally, she smiled. And Harry smiled. This was it. The deal was done. And no words needed to be spoken._

_Ginny found herself wrapped into another one of Harry's enticing kisses, except this time, it was different. It was soft, and yet eager. It was hungry, and yet patient. It was longing, and yet waiting. It was everything. The anticipation made her body feel even hotter. The tingling in her fingers and toes was almost numbing. Want. Need. She felt both. She wanted him, and she needed him._

"You know, kiddo, you could have just slept in the spare bedroom. Hermione set it up just for you last night," the voice was not of Harry's, which now seemed so far away, but of her elder brother, Ron, who was standing above her. Ginny noticed her hair had been mussed out of its long plait.

Ginny yawned, stretched, and looked around. The Gryffindor common room from five years ago–Harry's seventh and final year at Hogwarts–had melted away into the quaint, homely livingroom of Ron and Hermione's little house. She found herself laying on their couch, a quilt haphazardly covering her pajama-clad body. It had all been a memory in the form of a dream. A memory that Ginny had never forgotten. She scratched her head.

"Good morning, Sleepyhead," Ron quipped, chuckling as he adjusted his Ministry robes. "You were tossing around quite a bit. What were you dreaming about, love?"

Ginny shrugged, looking up into Ron's unusually cheerful, freckled face. She rubbed her eyes and yawned again. "I don't remember. It's all fuzzy," she lied, "What time is it?"

Ron glanced at his watch, "Seven o'clock. I should be leaving in about fifteen minutes."

"Is Hermione still sleeping?"

"Yes, but I've already said my goodbyes. She's unusually grumpy this morning. You know how those baby hormones can be. I'd be careful of her today," Ron sat down next to Ginny's legs, and ran a hand through his red hair. All of the Weasleys had red hair. Ginny noticed that, although his eyes were happy, they were also concerned. She didn't need to take three guesses to figure out why Ron had taken fifteen minutes before he left for work to talk to her.

"You woke me up because you want to know what happened between Harry and I, didn't you?"

Ron nodded. "I do want to know. And I also woke you up because I don't want Hermione to eat your head for breakfast because you didn't take advantage of the bed she prepared for you," he chuckled lightly, "Still. You're my baby sister. And Harry's my best friend. And when my baby sister shows up at my doorstep with a trunk in her hands and tears on her face, and I know that my best friend is possibly to blame, I want to know whose arse I have to introduce my foot to first."

Ginny let out a small laugh, careful not to breathe in Ron's face. Both Ron and Ginny shared an uncanny hated toward morning breath, "We're just having a rough time right now, Ron. It's not like the world is coming to an end or anything." She hoped that her face was convincing enough.

"But does having a rough time require a full trunk and a spare bedroom in your elder brother's house?" Ron asked. Ginny cursed her older brother for knowing her as well as he did. "Ginny, what happened?"

"It's not important."

"It's important if it makes you cry!"

Ginny rubbed her face with her hands, and tried desperately to think of a way to stop Ron from forcing her to tell him what had been going on with Harry. The last thing she needed was for Ron to kill him before she had a chance to make amends with him. "Can we talk about this later?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because before whenever 'later' is, you'll sneak out and go somewhere else."

Ginny looked away. She didn't want to tell him. She couldn't tell him. Harry was Ron's best friend. And although she was Ron's little sister, the bond that was between Harry and her brother was something that shouldn't be meddled with. And this would definitely meddle with it. Not to mention, she was sure that Ron would not want to hear about Ginny's wanting to rendezvous with his best friend between the sheets because they had not done so in so long, much less hear about her wanting to procreate with him. Finally, Ginny looked up. "It's seven o'clock in the morning, Ron."

Ron looked at his watch and groaned, muttering something under his breath. He shot an unconvinced look at his sister, and then at the front door. "All right, I get it, you don't want to talk about it," he said, although the reluctance in his voice was more than evident. "I won't ask. But promise me that if it gets worse, you'll tell me. This has to be set straight. You can't stay in our living room for forever."

Ginny feigned a pout, "Aw, why not? Your couch is very comfortable." Ron shot her a look, "I promise, I'll tell you if it gets worse."

"Good." He smiled.

Ron leaned over and planted a loving kiss on her forehead. "Go on up to the spare bedroom and go back to sleep. Hermione will flip when she's found out that she set up that bed for you and you didn't use it." Ginny nodded, standing up. She gave her brother a quick hug before gathering the quilt up and trudging up the staircase.

As she passed Ron and Hermione's bedroom, she peeked in and noticed Hermione laying on her side, one leg drawn up to prevent herself from sleeping on the baby inside of her, and a protective arm around her belly. Ginny smiled to herself, silently pulling the door ajar.

She continued quietly down the hall, and shut the door to the spare bedroom behind her. As she buried herself under the warm blankets and closed her eyes, she found herself thinking of Harry's thin, chiseled face, and sparkling green eyes. She missed him. But she would not go back to him, not now, anyway.

She was happier without him.

At least, she thought so.

- - -

Ginny yawned, rubbed her eyes, and stumbled awkwardly into her brother's kitchen, where she found Hermione sitting at the table, the _Daily Prophet_ in her hand. She was drinking milk out of a glass.

"Good morning, Hermione," Ginny mumbled, tying her red hair into a ponytail in order to get it out of her face.

Hermione smiled up at her, "Good morning, Ginny. There's still a little bit of sausage and eggs left, if you like."

Ginny smiled and took a plate out of a cupboard. She filled it with the remaining sausage and eggs, and then sat down across from Hermione. As she bit into the sausage–Hermione really needed to teach her how to fix this type of sausage, it was actually pretty good–she noticed that Hermione's eyes were following her. Testing her. It was as though Hermione was trying to grope around in her brain.

"What?" Ginny asked, her mouth full of sausage. Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled to herself, muttering something about her table manners being just like Ron's.

"Nothing."

"So why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

Hermione put the paper down, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm trying to figure out exactly why I was getting ready for bed last night, and a certain red-head shows up at my doorstep at quarter to eleven."

Ginny inwardly slapped herself. She should have figured that this was coming. Both Ron and Hermione were on occasion nosier than Harry's Aunt Petunia. Why hadn't she just gone to stay at the Leaky Cauldron? She should have figured that everyone in her family, either related to her by blood or not, would ask her what had happened between her and Harry. Sighing, she took another bite of sausage, and tried to ignore Hermione's prying eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"And I don't really think its any of my business. But it is my business to take care of my friend, and Ginny, you look terrible," Hermione took another sip of milk.

"Thanks, Hermione. You're very encouraging," Ginny replied bitterly, shrugging, "I just haven't been sleeping well, that's all."

"And that would simply require a good sleeping elixir, which I know that you know how to make, and a nice, warm bed. Don't think you can hide it from me, Ginny, I'm an Auror."

Curse Hermione. Curse her being an Auror. Curse her for being so damned smart.

"Is it Harry?"

Ginny's head shot up. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, think about it Ginny."

The room grew very quiet, aside from the consistent ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. Hermione's eyes were glued to Ginny's; gentle, loyal, and yet disgustingly prying and nagging. She was giving Ginny the kind of look a mother would give to her seven-year-old who was caught red-handed sneaking cookies before dinner. The look would make the said seven-year-old want to put the cookies back. And Ginny, for a brief moment, wanted to tell Hermione everything.

But at the same time, none of this was Hermione's business. It wasn't Ron's business. It wasn't anyone's business but Ginny's and Harry's.

Ginny put her fork down, pushed her plate away, and politely wiped her mouth with one of the flower-printed napkins on the table, "There's nothing to think about, Hermione."

"It _is_ Harry, isn't it?"

Ginny stood up, "I really don't feel like talking about it." She began towards the door of the kitchen with every intention to go up to the upstairs bathroom so that she could shower and change clothes. She was still wearing the sweat pants and white halter top from the night before, when she walked out on Harry.

Hermione put her glass down on the table, "It would make you feel better if you told someone."

Ginny stopped, "Look, Harry and I are having a few problems right now, and I had to get away from him for a few days so that I could think, okay? No big deal. Now just drop it!"

She had said it louder than she really meant to. And it was obvious that the way she had said it had hurt Hermione. Hermione's eyes softened, and she looked down at the floor in silence. Ginny sighed. Why had she yelled at her like that? Hermione was only trying to help...

"Look, Hermione," Ginny finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just need time to think about things. I'm sorry, all right?"

Hermione nodded, and awkwardly pulled herself up, her right hand bracing her back. Ginny moved to help her out of her chair, but Hermione had managed before she could even offer. "It's all right, Ginny."

"Do you need help with the kitchen?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Go take a shower. I know you want one."

Ginny watched as Hermione collected the dishes from the table, and then reluctantly turned around to make her way up to the bathroom for a nice, long shower.

- - -

To Ginny's knowledge, she could hardly recall ever a time when there was such an uproar within the walls of the maternity ward at St. Mungo's. There were several times when the atmosphere was tense (the air was always tense when a pureblood family came in to bring a new baby into the world) but never had it been this chaotic. Never had Ginny actually been _nervous_ to actually do her job.

Tonight, the Malfoy family had welcomed a new baby into the wizarding world. They had come to St. Mungo's for the exact same reason four years ago when Angelica Lamoreaux Malfoy gave birth to their daughter, Clarissa, in which her husband, Draco Malfoy, was none-too-happy to find that, until his wife had beared a son, the Malfoy family line still ended with him.

But, Malfoy's wife having a baby wasn't what had made the maternity ward so chaotic this time. It was the fact that Malfoy's wife was having a baby a month earlier than expected. And, being this far into her pregnancy, it had not been safe to cast any delaying spells.

However the hard part was over now, and the Malfoy parents were inspecting their new child. Ginny stood in the doorway, a clipboard balanced on her hip as she waited to take the baby's measurements. Unlike in the muggle world, wizarding parents were allowed a few moments' time with their babies until they were whisked away. That was something Ginny could never understand about muggle births: babies were almost instantaneously taken away from their mothers.

Draco Malfoy stood at the bedside, his face emotionless and his lips pursed slightly. It was quite apparent that he was _not_ happy to be looking into the face of yet another baby girl. He held little blond-headed, blue-eyed Clarissa by her hand, yanking her back toward him every time she tried to climb up onto the bed to look at her baby sister. Ginny fought back the urge to tell him to let the child be so that she may see her new sibling, but it was not her job. Angelica was carefully making sure that her new baby had all of her fingers and toes, and talking to her in a soft, sing-song voice.

"I wanna see the baby! Can I see the baby, Daddy?" Clarissa asked, finally getting tired of being told that she had to stay off of the bed.

Malfoy whirled on his daughter. Ginny had expected Malfoy's voice to be loud and raging, but instead he talked to her in a forced, slithering tone that assumed the girl was not intelligent in any way, "Now, now, Clarissa. You will see the new baby when your mummy is finished playing such trivial games with her."

Clarissa didn't seem to take notice the insult in Malfoy's voice. Instead, her pale, aristocratic face (it occurred to Ginny that, even at four, the Malfoys were defined by their money) lit up with a big grin.

"A girl! I have a baby sister!"

"Yes, unfortunately."

Again, Clarissa seemed not to notice. She had a new baby sister! Angelica looked up at Malfoy, pain washing over her face. She softly told him that there would 'be better luck next time,' and then looked down into Clarissa's little face.

"Why not you and Daddy go and catch a bite to eat?" She said. Ginny could hear the desperation to get her husband out of the room. Any woman in her right mind could have heard it, "I'm sure Daddy would love that, wouldn't you, dear?"

"It would be my pleasure," he replied sarcastically, grabbing the little girl's hands in his, and pulling her behind him at his flanks. As he pushed past her, Clarissa stopped and looked up into Ginny's face with a smile.

"Guess what, Mrs. Mediwitch-Lady! I have a new baby sister!"

Before Ginny could offer a _"That's wonderful, _Love_!"_, Malfoy cast a disgusted look at Ginny, giving his daughter's arm another yank. Clarissa clumsily followed him down the corridor.

Ginny turned around, and looked over at Angelica, who was watching the doorway with a sad look in her eyes. Ginny carefully stepped over, and waited until Angelica acknowledged her.

"I'm sorry he's been acting like that," she finally said apologetically, smiling weakly at the baby in her arms. She looked back up at Ginny, "He's not always that insufferable, but he really wanted a boy. I can see how this would irritate him." The kindness in her voice comforted Ginny. It was obvious that the two had had an arranged marriage. It was common in pureblood, aristocratic families.

"It's just fine, Mrs. Malfoy," Ginny replied. Her voice felt rehearsed in her mouth. She brought the clipboard up, and fished a hawk feather quill out of the pocket of her Mediwitch's robes. "Have you a name for her?"

Angelica looked down at the new baby sleeping peacefully in a bundle of blankets, and smiled. "Oh yes, of course. Katelyn. Katelyn Brianna Malfoy."

'_Katelyn. Clarissa. Such beautiful names,'_ Ginny wondered what she would name her daughter if she were to ever have one. She scratched the name onto the certificate with the quill, and smiled at Angelica politely. She tucked the quill into her Mediwitch's robes.

"Well, Mrs. Malfoy. I will give you a few minutes with little Katelyn before I have to take her to get her measurements," Angelica nodded, still smiling. Ginny looked down into Katelyn's tiny pink face. Unlike her older sister, Katelyn had a wisp of brown hair on her head, and her mother's nose. It was obvious that Katelyn would later reveal more of her mother's french resemblances. "Welcome to the world, Katelyn."

She quietly left to give Angelica a few moments with her new baby, cursing Harry in the back of her mind for not ever giving her the opportunity to experience such a moment like that, and at the same time praising him for not being a prat like Malfoy.

- - -

**Author's Note:  
**_Princess Brianna-Jane_: Ginny hasn't just jumped to conclusions. If you read the date of the diary entry in the prelude, Harry's behavior has been going on for months. As far as we can see, since August of the year before. Possibly even before that. This story only covers the end cusp of their relationship, and events that follow. I would also like to add that this story has been loosely based off of my own experience, and that when brought into this kind of situation, one becomes partial to jumping to conclusions. In other words, Ginny's "jumping to conclusions" is a result of months of Harry's strange behavior (not days) and her very strong suspicions surrounding them. :0)


	6. January 11th

_January 11, 2003_

Ginny zipped up the coat that her mother had bought for her several years ago (she had never been the one to throw away a decent coat, and this was her favorite one, anyway) and wrapped a warm scarf around her neck. She watched as Hermione awkwardly attempted to put her own coat on, but she seemed to be having difficulty. Hermione finally gave up, dropped the coat on the floor, and kicked it aside.

"Forget about it," she mumbled, crossing her arms across her chest and maneuvering herself around in order to sit down on the couch. "You go ahead and take a walk without me. I'll just sit here and read or something."

"Hermione," Ginny cooed. She walked over and soothingly ran her fingers through Hermione's soft brown curls. "Here, I'll help."

Hermione looked up at her, her eyes threatening to well up with tears. Ginny hoped she wouldn't cry. Now that it had become harder for Hermione do to certain things – walking up the stairs, sitting down, standing up, things that Ginny and everyone else had taken for granted – Hermione was getting emotional much more quickly than normal. According to Ginny's mother, that was typical for pregnant witches who were very close to their due dates, and the only thing to do was to wait it out.

"I hate being pregnant," Hermione finally said, folding her hands in her lap and looking at the floor. "I can't _do_ anything. And I'm such a nuisance. I always have to have everyone do everything for me."

Ginny smiled and picked Hermione's coat up off the ground. She gingerly helped Hermione into it, explaining to her that she wasn't a nuisance to anyone, and that she had a good reason for needing help. Hermione zipped the coat up and let Ginny wrap a scarf around her neck, all the while explaining why it was important for her to bundle up before she went outside. This finally brought a smile to Hermione's face.

"It will all be over soon," Ginny offered, pulling Hermione to her feet. The two put their mittens on, and headed outside into the snow.

After Ginny's shower yesterday, she told Hermione again that she apologized for yelling at her. She decided to make it up to Hermione by spending some girl-time with her outside in the snow, just like they always had in their previous years. The pair had decided to make the best of it, seeing as once Hermione's baby was born they wouldn't be having much girl-time to themselves. However, yesterday had been dreadfully cold, and it had been snowing. Not the best weather for a very pregnant witch, according to Ginny. And despite Hermione's pleas to play in the snow anyway (she did not want to put a damper on her and Ginny's girl-time), Ginny convinced her to wait until the snow had stopped and it was a spot warmer outside.

Today was perfect for girl-time, and thus they took advantage of it. The two began walking down the sidewalk in comfortable silence. Hermione had to take Ginny's hand as they stepped out onto the pavement to keep her balance, and the two walked down the sidewalk much like a pair of close sisters would. The fresh snow crunched under their boots. Considering that it had been snowing so much in the last few days, it was a surprise that there wasn't a great amount of snow on the ground. Hermione said it had something to do with the temperature of the ground compared to the temperature of the air when it had first began snowing, but Ginny stopped listening when Hermione began to talk about melting and freezing points. Sometimes Ginny felt that Hermione knew too much for her own good.

They turned a corner, where Hermione stopped to look at a funny-looking bird perched happily on a lamppost. Its feathers were ruffled, making the little brown-and-yellow thing look like a puffball with a beak, and it was singing happily.

"I wonder what kind of bird that is," Hermione commented, quickly glancing down at the ground as though racking her brain for the answer.

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. Probably some kind of finch."

The two continued along down the street.

"So when are you going to tell me what's going on between you and Harry?" Hermione asked as they passed a very nicely-decorated snowman..

Ginny shrugged half-heartedly, "There really isn't anything for me to tell you. We're just having a few problems right now, that's all."

"Well, maybe I can help."

Ginny sighed, and shoved the gloved hand not holding Hermione's into the pocket of her coat, "I don't know, it's quite complicated..."

Hermione stopped abruptly, and turned Ginny to look at her square in the face, "Ginevra Weasley Potter, look at who you're talking to, and then tell me again that it is quite complicated." Ginny's eyes traveled from Hermione's face down to the icy sidewalk. She was smirking in her patented know-it-all way, just as she always had when she was in school. Old habits die hard. "The problem cannot be so bad that you couldn't at least tell me what's wrong."

Ginny turned Hermione's words over in her head. Hermione was right. Exactly what harm could come out of her telling her? She had absolutely nothing to lose.

"All right, fine. But on the condition that you will _not_ say a word of this to Harry. I know you, and I know you're going to pull a Harry on me and try to patch things up between us. This sort of thing needs to be fixed on its own."

Hermione nodded. "All right. I won't tell Harry."

Ginny took a deep breath. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that Hermione would try to do something. That was just in Hermione's way. Hermione was, and always would be, a true Gryffindor. And it was just in the nature of Gryffindors to stick up for their friends even in the thickest of times.

"Lately Harry's been going to the Ministry really early in the morning, and staying there until really late at night. He's been doing this for a long time now. The sign of a cheating husband, wouldn't you say? I think he's been sleeping with Cassandra Wilt."

"His secretary?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Ginny nodded, and looked at Hermione for a very long time. For what felt like hours, although Ginny knew it was probably only a minute or two, Hermione didn't do anything but stare at her. And then suddenly, she burst out laughing. Ginny's brow knitted together.

"What's so funny?"

Hermione held her stomach and bent over, laughing until there were tears in her eyes. Ginny awkwardly watched her friend, contemplating whether or not the pregnancy had driven her into madness.

"Hermione, what's so funny?"

"Nothing, Ginny... that's definitely a..." Hermione let out a few giggles, "That's definitely a problem... but..." she took a deep breath, gulped, and settled down, "Harry? _Cheat?_ On _you?_ I highly doubt it. He hasn't got it in him."

Ginny's brow contorted even tighter in confusion. Hermione wiped a tear away from her eye, and put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Ginny, Harry has Chronic Truth Disorder. The boy couldn't tell a lie to save his life, even if Professor Snape had him tied up and dangled him upside-down over a vat of boiling bat bogies," Hermione smiled at her. "He would never cheat on you. Ever. He's too truthful, too _loyal,_ to do that to you. You should know him better than that."

"But how do you explain..."

"Think, Gin. Maybe he's been working overtime to get the money buy you something really expensive. Or maybe he's working overtime to get the money to move into a bigger house. You never know with Harry, seeing as he usually keeps such things to himself. If he can't lie about it, he might as well not say anything about it in attempt to not draw attention to what he's planning. Maybe it's the Ministry keeping him late at night, you never know," Hermione fiddled with her mittens, "Ever since he got married to you, he's always been wanting to do something that would surprise you or make you happy. Merlin, Gin, you should have seen the nervous wreck that he was in when he went to buy your engagement ring."

"What happened?"

"He couldn't walk into the jewelry shop _by himself_. He was so nervous that you wouldn't like what he bought, so he asked me to go with him. Merlin, I probably would have laughed my arse off if it wasn't so pathetic..."

Ginny hesitantly smiled up at her friend.

"So that's all? That's what's been bothering you all this time?" Hermione asked. Ginny nodded, not thinking any of this mess was something to laugh about. She didn't feel like talking about it anymore, especially about Harry's refusal to play with her between the sheets. She was afraid that Hermione would laugh at that, too.

The pair continued down the sidewalk, enjoying the fresh air and the fresh snow. As they reached the end of the street, Hermione told Ginny that her feet had begun to hurt, and that she wanted to go home. Ginny agreed. They turned around and continued back.

Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe Harry wasn't sleeping with another woman after all.

But at the same time, Hermione, as smart as she was, wasn't infallible. She could be wrong. Maybe Harry _could_ tell a lie, if he really wanted to.

Ginny internally cursed herself for being so cynical.

"So what do you think I should do, Hermione?" Ginny finally asked.

"You know as they say, the answer to almost anything is almost always the simplest." Hermione paused, "Just talk to him. Send him an owl and tell him to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron or something."

Ginny felt her heart sink at the thought of having to sit across a table and look into Harry's face. She could briefly recall the look on his face when she had packed her bags to leave. The way his eyes had looked so confused. Had she seen a hint of sadness in them, too? She thought she had.

No, she couldn't see Harry. Not right now. The wounds were still too fresh, too open.

When the pair reached Ron and Hermione's house, Hermione stopped Ginny, and put a hand on each of her shoulders. "Just do _something_, Ginny," she said calmly. Her voice was quite serious for having gone through a laughing fit not ten minutes before, "You can't hide in our house for forever."

Ginny smiled, "Aw, why not? I liked the idea of someone making breakfast for me every morning."

She thought that the little joke would lighten the mood – after all, it had lightened Ron's – but Hermione's face remained serious. Ginny's smile quickly melted. "Just talk to him," Hermione added, wrapping her in a hug. The pair walked through the front door and into the livingroom.

Ginny quickly shed herself of her coat and scarf, and gingerly helped Hermione out of her own. As she hung the coats and the scarves onto the coat rack, she yawned and stretched. "I think I'm going to go take a nap. All that walking's got me tuckered out."

Hermione nodded and told Ginny that she would be reading a book, in case Ginny needed anything. Ginny trudged up the stairs and flopped down onto the bed in the guest room. She thought about what Hermione had said. Maybe all she needed to do _was_ talk to Harry.

She rolled over and closed her eyes. A small, subconscious smile found her lips as she imagined Harry wrapping her into a nice, warm hug.

- - -

"_Are you sure you want to do this?" His voice sounded concerned._

"_Yes. I'm sure."_

"_We can turn back now, if you'd like."_

"_Harry, I'm sure."_

"_I'm just saying, Ginny, if you want to wait, I'll be more than happy to–"_

"_Harry!"_

"_What?"_

"_I'm sure."_

_Harry's brow furrowed, and he bit down on his lip. Ginny brought her fingers up to his face, and cupped his chin in her hands. "Look, Love, I didn't skip my classes because of 'a cold that's been going around' just for you to clam up like an oyster on me. I love you. And I'm sure that I want to do this," Harry's face flushed a deep maroon color, "Maybe the question should be whether or not you want to do this..."_

_He shook his head vigorously. "No, no, I do. It's just... I haven't any experience with this, and I don't want to hurt you or anything because I was doing something wrong."_

"_Harry, first of all, I find it really hard to believe that you're seventeen and still a virgin," She giggled as his face got even redder. Ginny couldn't say much, really. After all, she was sixteen, and she was still a virgin. But still, he was Harry Potter. "Second of all, the first time is going to hurt if you're as gentle as a kitten or as rough as a rock... no pun intended... that's just what happens. Don't worry so much."_

_Harry still looked apprehensive. Ginny sighed and quietly cast a contraceptive charm she had found in a spell book on herself. Harry watched her for a moment with curiosity, and then did the same. He looked up at her as if to say, 'Now what?'_

_Ginny leaned up and kissed him, in which he expertly responded. They had been kissing like this for ages, now. Kissing was nothing new. She slowly reached up his shirt and stroked the soft skin of his chest. Harry moaned._

"_That feels good," he whispered, his face breaking out into a goofy grin. Ginny smiled, and pulled him in for another kiss._

_Harry seemed to find his hands again, and his fingers were gingerly groping around Ginny's stomach. It was as though they were trying to cover as much ground as possible before moving up to her breasts. And again, this was nothing new. _

_Her heart was pounding fiercely as she slid out of her skirt and watched as Harry, trembling, awkwardly pulled his trousers off. She kept her eyes locked on his face, too embarrassed to look down. She didn't want him to catch her sneaking glances that would embarrass him. He awkwardly poised himself above her, his face lightly glistening with sweat._

"_Ready?" He asked quietly. She nodded._

_He sank into her, as gently as he possibly could. Ginny squeaked, as a sharp pain, both agonizing and pleasurable, shot through every vein in her body. Harry froze, looking down into her face. His eyes were wide._

"_Did I hurt you?" He asked. Ginny brought her hands, which had been clutching the sheets of his curtain-drawn four-poster bed, up to his hot, damp cheeks._

"_Just... keep... going," she managed, biting her lip. "Slowly. Very slowly._

_And it hurt. Oh Merlin, did it hurt. Ginny clenched her eyes shut, and grit her teeth. His movement was slow and awkward. She felt him slow to a stop, and looked up at him questioningly. He gently placed a soft, lingering kiss on the side of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. After a few soft movements, her body had begun to conform to him. The pain receded quickly, replaced by an indescribable pleasure that Ginny had never felt before. Harry's body tensed; he was close. According to Parvati Patil, the first time never lasted for very long, but 'got better after that.'_

"_Oh Merlin. Ginny..." Harry panted. "...can I say something... rather stupid?"_

_Harry's slow pace began to quicken. As amazing as this felt, Ginny was surprised that he could even find his mouth to speak. But instead of questioning him, she simply managed a 'yes' between gasps._

"_I would never... ever..." The word 'ever' had been squeezed out, as though he were trying to contain himself to the best of his ability, "..want to do this with anyone else. You're... amazing."_

_If she had not been lying on her back, drenched in sweat, with Harry's lean frame rippling over her, she would have told him that he had no one else to compare her to, thus the assumption that she was 'amazing' was more than likely wrong. But instead, she just moaned, and she heard Harry whimper._

"_I love you, Gin." He managed._

"_I love you, too."_

- - -

Ginny awoke with a start, and found herself frantically trying to figure out where she was. The cream-colored walls and white ceiling told her that she was still in Ron and Hermione's guest bedroom. Slowly, she laid down and rubbed her face in her hands. Her skin and her hair was drenched in sweat.

"That was one dream," she mumbled to herself, closing her eyes. "Merlin, I forgot about that. It was so long ago..." She took a deep breath and let her head fall back onto the pillow. "What in Circe's name was that?" she asked herself, suddenly feeling foolish for even talking to herself to begin with.

The smell wafting from the downstairs told Ginny that Hermione was preparing supper. It smelled like mashed potatoes, gravy, and chicken, but she couldn't be sure.

Ginny stood and made her way into the bathroom, being sure to catch the time from the hallway clock before she went in. 5:30. She had been sleeping for three hours. _'Must have been more tired than I thought,'_ she told herself, cupping cold water into her hands and splashing her face. After she dried off with a spare towel, Ginny made her way back into the guest room, where she found that she wasn't alone anymore. A familiar, old, snowy owl was perched outside the window, a letter in her beak.

"Hedwig?"

Ginny quickly ran across the room to let the owl in. Hedwig flopped onto the bed, and dropped the letter onto the blankets. Ginny reached out and stroked Hedwig's soft, feathery head with her fingertips. "Aw, poor girl. I'm sorry Harry sent you all the way out here in the snow. Why not you head on downstairs? I'm sure Hermione will give you some chicken and a place to rest."

The owl affectionately nipped at Ginny's fingers, and, with as much grace as the old owl could muster, she fluttered down the stairs. Ginny could just barely make out the sound of Hermione's surprised reaction to an owl flying into her kitchen.

Ginny peered down at the letter on the bed. It seemed innocent enough. A piece of off-white parchment with her name written in neat cursive with maroon ink. She took a deep breath, and picked it up.

She stared down at the familiar writing. The capital letters were somewhat of a great deal larger than the lower-case letters, and the dot that was supposed to be over the 'I' found itself somewhere over the second 'n'. Sighing, she opened the letter and began to read.

_Ginny,_

_I've been thinking about this whole mess for a very long time, now, and I really think we should talk about this. With you being wherever you are now, and with me being here, nothing is going to get accomplished if we don't talk to each other anymore._

_I just want to know what I did wrong, Gin. I just want to know what I can do to fix this._

_I know you don't like public places very much, so I'm asking you to come home. Come home, give me ten minutes, and I'm sure we can talk this whole mess out. After ten minutes, you can do what you please._

_I love you. I love you very much._

_-Harry-_

Ginny sat down and took a deep breath. She wondered how many pieces of parchment, how many quills, and how many ink bottles it took for him to write this letter. Slowly, she rubbed her temples with her fingers, and sighed.

"Ten minutes, Harry," she muttered to herself, "Ten minutes."


	7. January 12h

_January 19, 2003_

Ginny stood in the living room of her flat and sighed heavily. She asked herself why she had even bothered in coming back to the flat at all; Harry wasn't here, and she had been waiting for him to return for well over half an hour. Outside, night had fallen, and the city was alive with lights and nightlife. If she looked closely outside the large windows of her flat, she could just barely make out Jack's form across the street playing the piano. Ginny briefly considered just leaving the flat and either trying again tomorrow, or not coming back at all. However, she remained where she stood. She had only been gone for three days, but it felt like she had been gone for an eternity.

Ginny looked around, scrunching her nose. It was apparent that no one had been around to pick up after Harry. Harry was not a very messy person, it was just that sometimes someone needed to take a broom to the floor after him, especially when he was pulling his hair out over something. Harry always seemed to get unbelievably disorganized when he was putting his teeth to the grind. Ginny could recall a time when Harry was in his sixth year and he had an enormously-important Potions test that he needed to study for. He went a week without taking a shower, explaining that the twenty minutes it took to bathe would just be wasted studying time.

Apparently, things had gotten pretty rough here, even if it had only been three days. There were robes all over the floor, _Ministry robes,_ Ginny realized, and dirty dishes on the kitchen counter.

Ginny crossed her arms and walked from room to room, looking at the floor. She kept asking herself what in the name of Merlin she was looking for, but deep down knew that she was searching for evidence of another female puttering around in her flat.

However, she found none. Not a single solitary one.

_That little tart must be good at sneaking around, _Ginny told herself, pushing the door to the bathroom open and looking at nothing more than wrinkled towels on the floor. Even the counters were free of any evidence of another female, aside from the astringent that Ginny had forgot to pack when she had left. Ginny picked up the towels, still damp from the morning's shower, and tossed them into a hamper.

In the bedroom, Ginny found nothing more than crumpled blankets, which she knew had been Harry's fault as he always tossed around a lot when there was something on his mind, and a few wrinkled pillowcases. However, the two pillows that sat in Ginny's place were untouched. Ginny took a deep breath, taking in the smell of the bedroom. It had occurred to Ginny that every bedroom had a certain smell, and hers smelled like her apple shampoo and Harry's mint toothpaste. And that was what the bedroom smelled like now, though the smell of apple shampoo was more faint than that of the mint toothpaste. There were no smells of unfamiliar perfume or unfamiliar shampoo...

Just apples and mint.

Ginny waved her wand over the bed, watching it fold and make itself. She dropped down on the mattress when the blankets were through folding, trying to mentally sort things out. Harry had been cheating on her, hadn't he? All of those early mornings and late nights at the Ministry? All of his objection to making love with her? All of the distance he had put between them? Weren't those all symptoms of an unfaithful husband?

But, if all of this had meant that there was another woman involved, why were there no clothes? Why did the room not have the smell of another woman's perfume? Why did their apartment look more like a bachelor pad than it did a love nest? Perhaps Hermione _had_ been right. Harry had _not_ been cheating on her, after all.

It was all so confusing.

"I'm sorry for not cleaning the flat. I couldn't do much laundry. It's been ages since I had to wash robes because you've always done it for me, and I shrunk the first pair I tried to wash, so I decided not to attempt it again," Harry's voice made Ginny jump. Her head snapped toward the doorway. Harry's slender body was leaning against the door frame. Instead of his Ministry robes, he was wearing a pair of khaki-colored trousers and a forest-green sweater. Ginny noted in the back of her mind that Harry was quite appealing when he wore muggle attire. "However there is absolutely no excuse for my not making the bed. I'm sorry for not doing that, either."

"It's quite all right, Harry," Ginny said, folding her hands in her lap. "I don't expect that I'll be staying for long, so it really does not matter anyway."

Harry sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "Why are you doing this, Ginny? To us?"

"I'm not doing anything," she replied curtly. She looked down at her fingernails in an attempt to appear busy. In actuality, she was trying not to look at him in the eyes. Harry crossed his arms, resting his temple against the doorframe.

"Can you please _talk_ to me, Ginny? Can you please _tell_ me what I did wrong?" His voice was small, as though he were a child huddled up in the corner trying to hide from a scolding.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "I should not have to _tell_ you what you did wrong. You should already know."

Harry quietly stepped over to her, and stood in front of her, "Well, I don't know. And I'd really appreciate it if you told me." His voice sounded like he was trying very hard to sound firm.

Ginny found that she couldn't stare at her fingernails anymore, and that the only place she could stare at was his eyes, though very much against her will. She knew that if she stared into his eyes long enough, she would be sucked right back into his trap. The trap that he had set up for her back in her sixth year. And then he was going to ignore her again, make her feel unwanted, unneeded, and vulnerable again, and it was all going to hit the fan.

Again.

"Please tell me, Ginny?" He pleaded

_Not vulnerable. You're not vulnerable. Don't fall into this again, Ginevra,_ Ginny told herself. But she could not look away from his eyes. Her hands suddenly felt very warm, and she realized that Harry's fingers had wrapped around hers. They were soft and warm. Loving. She wondered if she would feel just as soft and warm and loved if he wrapped his arms around her...

_NO! Don't do this to yourself again!_

"You stopped loving me," she said feebly, her eyes locked on his, "You stopped loving me, stopped eating dinner with me, stopped making love to me, stopped sleeping next to me." Ginny felt as though her voice had a mind of its own, and she found herself unable to stop, "You stopped being my husband, Harry! And you started seeing that secretary of yours!"

Harry's face contorted in confusion. Ginny felt the warm tears prickling at her eyes, but she made no attempt to stop them. To bloody hell with vulnerability! She did not even make an attempt to wipe them away as they spilled down her cheeks, leaving acidic trails down her freckled skin.

"Cassandra?" He asked, brow furrowed.

"Yes! _Cassandra!_" Ginny cried. She dragged her fingers through her hair, feeling the burning tears stream down her face like tiny rivers. "And now you're going to lie to me and tell me that you have no idea what I'm talking about! This is what you did, Harry!"

She stopped when she felt Harry's thumb rest against her cheek and gently wipe away her tears.

"You thought I was sleeping with Cassandra?" He asked quietly. Ginny nodded, sniffling.

"Yes," she replied weakly. She watched a wave of hurt wash over his face.

Harry's thumb continued to stroke her cheek, "Ginny, you should know me better than that. I would _never_ do that to you. Not _ever_. I didn't marry you, I didn't give myself to you, I didn't swear to love, protect, and cherish you just to sleep with another woman."

Ginny didn't know what to say. She slowly pulled her face away from Harry's, and self-consciously wiped her cheek with her fingers.

"What?" she finally squeaked. "Well then what about all the time you spent at the Ministry?"

"That was the Ministry's fault. They thought I was just some muggle robot that could devote twenty hours of his day to their endless requests. But I _was_ paid overtime for it."

"So you weren't sleeping with Cassandra?"

"Merlin, no! Not ever! Yes, _she_ tried to sleep with_ me_, so I fired her."

Ginny blinked. "You fired her? When?"

"Not a day before you decided to run out on me to Ron's place. That was why I got tied down at the Ministry before the family dinner. I had to run through papers and the like."

"How did you know I was at Ron's place?" Ginny asked.

"Hermione owled me," he answered simply. Ginny fought back the urge to roll her eyes. She knew Hermione had done something. "She told me you were staying over there. She also told me that you and I needed to sit down and have a serious talk. She was right." Harry sat down next to Ginny on the bed, and the hand had been cupped under her chin fell into his lap. "I still cannot believe you would ever think I would do that to you. Ever."

Ginny looked away from Harry, and let her eyes fall onto the headboard of their bed. She couldn't look him in the eyes anymore. Her assumptions had hurt him.

There was a long silence between them, Ginny's eyes locked on the headboard, and Harry's eyes locked on her red hair. Harry had not been cheating on her with Cassandra. He had fired her for attempting to seduce him! At first, Ginny thought that he was lying in order to get back on her good side, but she knew better. Hermione had even said it: Harry was _not_ good at lying, and he was _not_ good at hiding things. And there was no mistaking the hurt in his voice, even if he was trying to hide it.

"Is that all that has been bothering you?" he finally asked, his voice shattering the silence of the room. Ginny, at first, did nothing. She couldn't bring herself to look into Harry's eyes. Finally, she turned to look out the large bedroom windows. It was snowing again; the snowflakes were large and plentiful. It almost reminded her of a scene in one of those Christmas postcards that muggles send to their relatives that they haven't seen in ages. She felt Harry's fingers on her cheek, and she slowly turned to look at him. "Answer me, Ginny. Is that all that has been bothering you?"

Ginny shook her head, her eyes locked on his.

"Then what else? We can fix this together, Ginny. But you have to tell me."

"I wouldn't know how to tell you," she said, trying to avert her gaze. But Harry's eyes would have nothing of it.

There was a pause.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with… with Ron and Hermione having a baby, would it?" he finally offered. Ginny's eyes widened. She was about to ask him how he knew, but she could not quite bring herself to put her mouth around the words. It didn't matter though, Harry answered her question before she could say anything, "I'm not as detached from you as you think I am, Love. I do know you want to."

Ginny closed her eyes, "Yes, I want to have children. I want to have children so badly that it's driving me bonkers."

Harry stopped, and looked down at the floor. He sighed.

Ginny looked away, "But it doesn't matter, now. I can wait, if you really feel that you aren't ready. Hermione told me a long time ago that it took her ages to convince Ron that having children wouldn't be as bad as he thought. And I…"

Her voice was abruptly stopped when Harry's hands found her cheeks, and his lips found her own. The kiss was, at first, firm and crushing, but Ginny found her composure and suddenly, the kiss was enticing. Enticing, tantalizing, and (quite unexpectantly) it was _arousing_. She found herself suddenly buzzing with dizzying warmth, and she was _very_ eager to return his kiss. _So long._ It had been _so long_ since he had kissed her like that. Ginny's hands trailed down the front of his shirt, groping around until she found the bottom of his sweater and eventually, the soft skin of his chest.

Harry softly moaned against her mouth, lightly pushing her onto her back. Ginny accepted him with ease. His fingers expertly opened her robes, gently trailing over the warm, sensitive skin underneath. She lightly moaned, deepening their kiss.

Suddenly, she stopped.

"Harry..."

"Hmm?" He mumbled, looking up into her eyes.

"What are we doing?"

Harry didn't say anything. His eyes trailed off as though he were thinking very hard about something. Finally, his lips curled into a small smile.

"Even straight roads meander," he said thoughtfully, looking into her eyes. "And while we have strayed very..." Harry's eyes flickered with mischief "..._very_ far off of our path..." His voice dropped to a low whisper. His lips, soft and hot, trailed up her neck. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, relishing the feeling of him against her. "I think that we've found our road again," he whispered into her ear. His tongue flicked against her skin.

Ginny couldn't think of anything to say.

"Let me make love to you," he finished quietly. The words sounded so strange on his tongue, and yet they sounded so right. She looked up at him questioningly.

"What?" She squeaked. She knew what he had said, but she wanted to hear the words again.

"I said..." his voice lowered into a husky growl. His forehead met hers, and he touched the tip of their noses together, "let me make love to you."

Ginny stared into his eyes, trying to corner him in a lie, if there was any. But there wasn't one. Not a single, solitary one. And again, as Hermione had said: Harry was _not_ capable of lying. Slowly, her lips curled into a smile.

"Well it's about time, Harry Potter."


	8. Christmas Eve

**An Article from **_**Witch Weekly**_**, October 2003**

**HARRY POTTER WELCOMES BABY GIRL INTO THE WORLD**

_Cameron Bigger, Staff Reporter_

The new Seeker for the Chudley Canons, Harry Potter, 23, and his wife, Ginevra, 22, welcomed baby Lilian Ginevra Potter at 2:46 on the morning of October 3 at St. Mungo's. Lilian was 19 inches long, and weighed exactly 6 pounds.

The couple is ecstatic about starting a new family.

"Having Lily was the best thing that we have ever done," Potter said in a statement three hours after Lilian arrived. "We are absolutely thrilled to be starting a family."

A few close friends of the Potters, as well as Ginevra's extensive family were present during Lilian's birth.

"It was obvious that they were ready to start a family," said Molly Weasley, Ginevra's mother, "they are going to make wonderful parents."

When asked if there were to be more little Potters in the future, Potter replied, "We plan to worry about that when the time comes. For right now, we are happy with just having Lily."

Mother and baby are doing well, and the two are expected to return home within the next few days.

_Friday, December 24, 2003_

_Diary,_

_I don't recall ever a time when Harry was this excited about Christmas Eve. _

_I woke up around 3 this morning. Lily normally wakes me up at that time in order to eat and my body has grown so used to waking up at that time. When I saw that Harry wasn't in bed, and Lily wasn't in her cradle, I knew I had to look in the living room. I found Harry sitting in the rocking chair (the one that mum gave us) next to the Christmas tree, feeding Lily a bottle and rocking her to sleep. He was even humming a song to her, although I couldn't quite make out which. Perfect. It was absolutely perfect._

_It's amazing how much everything has changed in the last year. To think, it was almost a year ago that everything I had with Harry almost came crashing down. But as he said so many months ago, even straight roads meander. I really don't want to dwell on the bad things. I am just going to leave the past in the past, and I am going to look forward to the future._

_I put Lily in that dress that I had bought from Teely Gray's all the way back in January for the first time, today, right before we went to have our Christmas Eve family dinner at the Burrow. She's developing into her own little witch with her own little personality with every passing day. Her hair is getting darker and curlier. Right now, it looks like a mass of brown curls on top of her head. Her eyes are caramel, not chocolate-brown like mine. Mum says that Lily is starting to look more like me every day, but I disagree. I think she's going to look just like Harry. She's such a daddy's girl already._

"Feeding her _again_?"

Harry's voice interrupted Ginny's chain of thought. Ginny looked up at him from the bed, seated behind her diary where a self-writing quill scribbled furiously along the lined paper. Harry was leaning in the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed nonchalantly across his chest. With both of Ginny's hands free from writing in her diary, she took to holding little Lily at her breast, the baby swaddled in her warm winter blankets and suckling lethargically, her eyes drooping more and more as Ginny stroked the top of her head with her fingertip. Ginny picked up her wand off of the side table, and waved it over her diary. The quill laid itself down on the page that which it was scribbling on, and the old book closed over the quill.

"Last meal before bedtime," Ginny explained. "With a full tummy, I'm hoping she'll sleep through at least _most _of the night."

Harry chuckled and approached the bed and sat down next to her, careful to not jostle the bed for fear of waking Lily up. "No baby this young ever sleeps through the night," he said quietly, gingerly running his hand over Lily's head. "Your poor brother is still trying to get William to do it."

Ginny giggled. Ron's little devil, whom he had named after their eldest brother, Bill, had been fussy ever since the day he was born. It wasn't surprising to her that Ron and Hermione were still having problems getting him to sleep through the night, even at a few months shy of being a year old. Ginny guessed that it came from Hermione's incessant need to make her opinion known.

She felt Lily nod off in her arms, and looked down at her. Lily's face rested against her breast, her mouth just barely touching the bud in which she had been suckling. Ginny could feel her light, even breaths against her skin.

"I don't care what you say, Harry, she is beginning to look just like you." She commented matter-of-factly, running her finger over Lily's enclosed fist. Harry leaned in closely, so close that Ginny could smell his hair, and peered down into Lily's face. His brow was knit together fiercely, as if he were deep in thought.

"I don't know, Gin," he drawled. With his fingertip, he pointed at her nose. "I think that's your nose I see. And those are definitely your ears…"

Ginny laughed, and Harry sat back up and kissed her temple, "I'll take her to bed, Love." She felt his lips form a smile against her ear, and she rested the baby in his outstretched arms. Harry cradled Lily and carried her over to the far corner of the room, where Lily's cradle stood; a lace curtain draped over it. Ginny buttoned up her nightgown and tied her hair back into a ponytail. She watched Harry push the curtain aside and lean over to lay the baby in her cradle.

Harry had developed a kind of ritual when it came to putting Lily to bed. Ginny had first noticed it right after they had bought the mobile with four pastel-colored teddy bears hanging from it: a pink one, a lavender one, a green one, and a blue one.

First, he would lay the baby on her back, tucking blankets around her to make sure it was not possible for her to roll onto her stomach; and then he would pull one of her little blankets up to her chest. Next, he would wind the teddy bear mobile, and, just before the mobile started to spin he would stroke her forehead with his fingers. From there, he waited until the soft, twinkling song entered its second chorus before drawing the lace curtains around the cradle closed and coming to bed. It was always the same ritual. It was always Harry's "father-daughter" time.

It was perfect.

Ginny stashed her diary between the mattresses while Harry's back was turned, telling herself that she would finish the entry tomorrow. She listened as Harry wound the mobile, and the room was filled with the twinkling song. Just as expected, at the second chorus, Harry drew the lace curtain shut and crawled into bed. Ginny smiled at him and laid back into the pillows, closing her eyes. The only light that was on in the room was on Harry's side, and she waited for him to turn it out.

She felt Harry's hand brush a few loose hairs behind her ear, and his lips against her earlobe.

"You look beautiful tonight," his voice was low, and soft. Deep down, Ginny could hear a playful growl underneath it all, and a wicked smile danced across her lips.

"Please," she replied. She opened her eyes and sat up, cupping both of her breasts in her hands. "My breasts are sagging and I haven't lost all of my baby fat. And if you think that's beautiful, then–"

Her rejection to the compliment was brought to a sudden halt as Harry leaned forward and wrapped her into a kiss. Her skin tingled with excitement. It had been a long, long while since they had been able to do anything. She felt his arm wrap around her waist and pull her toward him so that she was almost completely on top of him. His free hand reached back behind him and fumbled around for the switch on the lamp. When he couldn't find it, he grunted irritably into Ginny's lips, trying not to break their kiss, and fished his wand from his pocket. With a quick _swish,_ the light popped out, and the room was engulfed in darkness.

Harry's lips trailed down Ginny's neck, and she let out an excited shudder. It felt like her skin was tingling with more ferocity than she had ever felt in her life.

"Oh, Harry…" She breathed, caught between wanting to giggle and wanting to moan as Harry promptly began leaving a number of fairy kisses along her neck. "It's been forever, Harry. I think I've forgotten what to do!"

Harry chuckled, his breath hot against her skin. He lifted his head from her neck and smiled boldly at her. "I promise you, Ginevra Weasley Potter, you have not forgotten a thing in the time that you've been missing in action." Ginny felt his fingers begin to pluck the buttons of her nightgown open. He lowered his head and traced a delicate, invisible line between her breasts with his lips. Ginny felt a spark rush through her, bringing with it an intense heat, and an aching desire to feel him, as much of him, as she possibly could at one time. The only sounds she could hear were the sound of the twinkling mobile, and of Harry's lips kissing her skin.

Harry lifted his head from her breasts again, and pressed his forehead gingerly against her own. His eyes, as bold as emeralds, sparkled with mischief.

"I want you." He whispered. "I want you right now."

Ginny glanced at the cradle in the far corner of the room, and then back up at Harry. She smiled.

"All right," she giggled, vaguely feeling like she was doing something very naughty, something like taking a cookie from the cookie jar before dinnertime, or kissing a boy in the dark corner of the dormitory when she was still attending school at Hogwarts, "Just as long as we don't wake the baby."

_**Finis**_

_**Author's Note: **Hello guys! I just wanted give my thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story since its conception in 2005 -- especially those who kept kicking me in the arse to keep me updating. It's been a very long time coming, a ridiculously long time coming, in fact... 2 years for 8 chapters is beyond ridiculous... but real life decided it needed to get in the way (I miscarried at 8 weeks last July, and at the time I felt like it had put me on a permanent writer's block) as well as this story going through not only one, but two rewritings. Your patience, gratitude, and great reviews were just what I needed to pick myself up and get me back on track and finish this story. As a thank-you gift, I added in the last scene between Ginny, Harry, and little Lily that had been excluded from the original draft. I hope you enjoy it!_

_ As a closing note, I wanted to explain to the readers why this story was written as it was; with very little plot, but tons of characterization; ie: Ginny's paranoia and inability to just sit down and talk with Harry. There are two reasons, in fact: one being that it is in my nature to focus more on the human characteristics of writing (I'm not studying to be a psychologist for nothing, after all) and the other being that this story was therapy for me when I was having a hard time with my boyfriend, my soulmate, my high-school sweetheart, of whom this story would not have been possible. Whether Harry reminds me of him, or he reminds me of Harry is uncertain, however I specifically modeled Harry after him, right down to his "inability" to lie. (As a side note, "inability" doesn't mean that he is strictly unable to lie, it just means that he's terrible at doing so.) I like to think, in the end, Harry's character turned out brilliantly, as it doesn't seem like Harry is too out of character to me. But, then again, I could be wrong, and that is what constructive criticism is for._

_Again, I want to thank all of you for being so patient. In the end, it was you guys who made this story what it was; particularly in pushing me to keep writing, even after I thought I had abandoned this piece a year and a half ago. You guys are amazing, and I encourage you to continue reading, continue reviewing, and most of all, continue writing!_

_ **- A.R.  
**_


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